A Little Bit of Hell
by Tenshi-Kinryoku
Summary: South Park Battle Royale.  Blood, gore, swearing and violence.
1. Notes

Note on the characters:

There are about 54 people in this story, and some of them have only appeared in the show once. I'll just give you a quick rundown of the list of characters here before the story begins in case you're wondering where all of these characters came from. If not, feel free to skip this entirely.

Annie - blonde curly haired girl in the main class. Was everywhere in "Elementary Scool Musical."

Bebe

Brad Dixon - fan name for the kid with the blue hat and the yellow stripe along the bottom.

Bradley - first appeared in "Rainforest Schmainforest." Part of the choir.

Bridon - from "Elementary School Musical."

Butters

Christophe

Clyde

Craig

Damien

Dylan - goth kid with the red hair.

Cartman

Esther - black haired girl in the class with the light blue shirt.

Ferrari - one of the Raisins girls. (The new one)

Filmore - kid in Ike's class who was running for class president in "Trapper Keeper."

Flora - kid in Ike's class who can't make up her mind on who to vote for in "Trapper Keeper."

Francis - in a few episodes as a bg character. He was a Jew-scout in "Jewbilee."

Gary - Mormon kid in "All About Mormons."

Gregory

Heidi - had the sleepover in "Marjorine."

Henrietta - the only female goth kid.

Ike

Jason - Has been in it from episode 1. Part of Craig's group in "South Park is Gay."

Josh - Was in "Toilet Paper." The kid in the jail cell.

Karen - Kenny's sister.

Kenny

Kevin Chambers - youngest goth kid.

Kevin McCormick - Kenny's brother, obviously.

Kevin Stoley - The nerdy Star Wars kid. Part of Cartman's group in "Fatbeard."

Kip - "You Have 0 Friends."

Kyle

Lexus - one of the Raisins girls. (The one Butters liked)

Liz - takes part in the sled races in "Cartman's Silly Hate Crime 2000." Has a pink outfit.

Lola - paired with Token in "Follow That Egg." Also a list maker in "The List."

Mark - home schooled kid in "Hooked on Monkey Phonics."

Mercedes - one of the Raisins girls. (The blonde one)

Millie - blondish hair with pigtails. Was at Heidi's sleepover in "Marjorine."

Nelly - list holder in "The List."

Patty Nelson - Cartman said he fantasized about her in "Le Petit Tourette."

Pip

Porsche - one of the Raisins girls. She tried to cheer Stan up. (black hair)

Rebecca - home schooled girl in "Hooked on Monkey Phonics."

Red - Made out with Stan in "Stupid Spoiled Whore Video Playset." Is in the bg a lot.

Sally - Looks like Red but has a clip in her hair. Was paired with Kenny in "Follow That Egg,"

Scott Malkinson - "Elementary School Musical." He's the kid with a lisp and diabetes.

Scott Tenorman

Shelley

Stan

Thad - "Guitar Queer-o."

Thomas - kid with tourettes in "Le Petit Tourette."

Token

Tweek

Wendy


	2. Game Start

"What?" Stan's question broke the silence that had surrounded them. "What do you mean kill each other?"

"What do you think it means?" Damien's response held no trace of a joke.

"...You want us to kill each other? For what?" Annie called.

"Amusement, really... See, I get bored easily. Plus you all piss me off. So, this is my solution. One of you will make it through."

"You're kidding, right?" Flora's voice was small, almost unheard.

"No, I promise you I'm not kidding. Look at where you are." About fifty heads turned this way and that taking in their surroundings. "This island has been deserted for quite a while now. A perfect place for this game to take place."

"You're insane, Damien. We're not going to kill each other," Craig said.

"Oh, really? How about we do it like this then... If you don't participate in this, then I'll just kill you myself right here. It sounds fine to me, but wouldn't you rather take a chance at survival?"

"Fuck you," was the only response Craig could manage.

"Ha. Don't worry, it won't be as bad as you might be thinking. See, I have a weapon for each of you. Some are better than others, sure, but if I put you all on even grounds then my amusement would die off quickly."

"You're sick, you know that?" Shelley asked.

"Maybe. But I'm sure as this game goes on you'll learn quite a bit about each other."

"...What do we have to do, exactly? Are there any rules we need to follow or something?"

"Thad, you can't be serious about going along with this!" Stan asked, incredulous.

"Do you see how we can get out of it? None of us can escape from Damien and you know it."

"Ahh, finally someone with reason. Rules. Basically anything is fine. You can pair up with whoever you feel like, you can hide or at least try to. If no one has died by the end of the day, I will personally see to killing all of you on my own. Otherwise I won't take any part in this game. You can't escape from this island. You're surrounded by water, and even if you did manage to make it to land I will find you."

"...Is that it?" Sally's face was pale.

"Oh, no. One more thing. You will start at either the north or south tip of the island and be spread out along the way. To make it more clear, say that Liz and Dylan both start at the south, one could start to the very eastern side while the other will be closer to the west. No two people will start right near one another, and couples will start on opposite sides of the island."

"What?" Mark was furious. "That's ridiculous!"

"I said couples, Mark. You might start on the same side as your sister, unless there is reason for you not to...?"

"Don't be stupid, Damien." Rebecca responded in place of Mark.

"Then I guess that's it. Any of the buildings are fair to use. Now, I'll give each of you a weapon and take you to your starting point. It won't take long. Any other questions?"

"You're entirely serious, aren't you?" Pip looked up at Damien, trying to see any hint of a lie in his face.

"Entirely. "

Within one hour, everyone had been given a weapon and a position to start in. The game had begun.

**~53 remaining~**


	3. An Act of Kindness

Stan had started at the northern tip of the island. The opposite side of Wendy and Kyle. Yes he and Wendy were no longer a couple (he had been dating Kyle for two years now) but he still cared for her. Shelley had started on the same side of the island as him, but she was probably going to look for Ethan. He had spent about fifteen minutes looking for her before he began to walk to the south, his shotgun held over his shoulder.

She was having serious regrets of ever having become friends with any of these people. She just wanted everything to go back to normal, to pretend that her town wasn't really as fucked up as it seemed to be. Flora had done pretty well throughout the years managing to avoid most of the fucked up occurences of the town, but it seems her luck had finally run out. In her hand she held the weapon given to her by Damien. It was a small but sharp pocket knife. Not that it mattered, there was no way that she could ever use such a thing, let alone ANYthing, to harm someone. It just wasn't in her nature. Looking out around her, there was a vast field, surrounded by trees and bushes, and even beyond that, unseen to her although she had been told, was water. She could see the ocean to the north of her, but she didn't like imagining that she was surrounded and that they couldn't escape. She walked to a tree, carefully, quietly but quickly, and leaned against it. She inhaled deeply, and slolwy slouched down and sat by the base of the large tree, letting out a low sigh. The sun was up, although it wouldn't be for much longer. She opened and closed the knife, watching the blade reflect the sun and sparkle. Flora sat like this for five minutes, several thoughts running through her mind, unaware that she had silently started to cry. As the tears fell down her face, she heard the rustling of a bush nearby. She turned around, knife still closed and tightly held in her hand. The thought of actually using it didn't even cross her mind. Among the bushes, she made out the shape of someone, male, she thinks, with darker hair. She unknowingly holds her breath, and lets it out when she sees who it is. One of the few people she would be happy to see in this situation, it's Filmore. He emerges from the bushes, slowly walking away from her. Apparently he hadn't seen her, so she gently calls out.

"Filmore!"

He quickly turns around, his weapon held in one hand, ready to attack whoever it was that called to him. He looks over and sees Flora sitting by the tree, and he lets his weapon (nunchaku) drop to his side. There is no sign of fear on his face, only relief.

"Flora! I actually can't believe that I found you. Are you alright?" He walks towards her. He notices the tears coursing their way down her face, and reaches his hand out towards her. Flora takes Filmore's hand and stands up.

"I'm... I'm.." her voice breaks and she starts to cry harder. "I'm just, I don't want to do this. There is no way that I could ever kill someone."

"I know. Just... just stay near me, alright?" He begins to walk away, and only turns when he notices that she isn't following him. "Flora?" He looks back and she is still near the tree, her knife still held in her hand. "...Flora?" He walks back towards her, a confused look on his face.

"Filmore... I need you to do me a favour. I can't do it on my own, so... please. I need you to help me." Her tearstained face looked up towards him, and in her eyes he sees an inside struggle.

"What do you need?"

"Filmore... I need you to kill me." Her voice is strong, certain. There is no trace of hesitation.

"I...I can't do that, not to you." His voice breaks as he holds her against him.

She slowly pushes herself away, still gripping onto his arms. She looks into his face, a smile on her own. "Filmore... you need to. I can't do it on my own. And I can't imagine dying another way. Look... please. I have this," she holds out her pocket knife, the blade now out, "and I just want you to do it in the least painful way you can."

"Flora, stop. I can't do that and you know it."

"Yes, you can." Her voice remains firm, her glance not wavering. She takes his hand and places the knife into his palm. "Please. I only want you to do it. I don't want someone I don't love to kill me."

"..Flora..Flora, really?"

"Mhm. We've been dating for a long time now, and I want it to be you. Please. I don't want you to see me die in another way. I don't _want_ to die another way. And I know I wouldn't be able to stand seeing you die. So please." Practically pleading now, although her voice is still strong.

"You mean this? For sure?"

"Mhm." She sits down on the ground, slowly dragging him down with her. She nestles herself inbetween his outstretched legs, her back to his chest. She places her hands, palms up in her lap. Filmore reaches around her, takes her arm and gently places the blade against her wrist.

"Flora... you know I love you," he says as she leans her head against his shoulder.

"Mhm, and you know that I love you. Which is why this needs to be you. So please, don't feel upset because really, it's a favour. You're helping me more than anything."

"I... I know." As Flora tilts her head towards his face, they kiss as he slides the blade into her outstretched wrists and the blood flows and drips to the grass around her.

**~52 remaining~**


	4. An Explosion To Start

Ten minutes after everyone was given a weapon and told they were meant to kill one another, Token was walking along the edge of the field near the southern edge of the island. They weren't given any sort of map, but they were all stuck here. There was no way to get off of it. If they did try to swim away, they would most likely drown, and aside from that, Damien was from hell after all. He would be able to find them instantly if they did make it anywhere, and he would kill them with no hesitation. Is this really what happens when he just gets bored? How unfair. And on top of all of that, not only was this whole situation ridiculous, he had one of the most useless "weapons" he could think of. It might be used, and to a very effective level, if people would trust you. But when everyone is going out of their way to kill one another, then why would this ever have any use? He looks at the bottle clutched in his hand and grows angrier. What the hell is a bottle of poison going to do when you can't convince anyone to drink it? Fuck that. Token decided that he would need to get his hand on a better weapon. A gun, if someone had one. Even a crappy knife would be better than this thing. He begins to walk towards the trees, to get some shelter. To his left, he catches something in the corner of his eye as the sun reflects off of a shiny surface. He begins to walk towards it, and then as he realizes what infact it is, he begins to run. But unfortunately for Token, it is too late. As the grenade explodes, causing a deafening crash into the air, Token is vaporized by the impact. Blood and chunks of skin fly left and right, a severed hand lands in the trees he was just about to enter. The bottle of poison explodes into a thousand tiny shards of glass, shining as bright as snow as it falls to the ground with pieces of flesh.

The explosion filled the air and the birds flew from the trees overhead screaming instead of singing. A crowbar wasn't such a bad weapon, but if you put it up against whatever made that noise, Clyde was, to put it simply, fucked. Walking among the trees, trying to stay quiet, a silent moan escapes as he realizes the severity of what is happening. Kill each other? Was that really the point of this? And not only that, but people had already begun? Well, sure Damien did mention he would kill them in the most painful way he could manage if they tried to escape or sat doing nothing... but it was still unimaginable. Although the explosion, and the force of it made it a little more believeable, it was still hard to grasp completely. Walking slowly, keeping his breathing as low as possible, Clyde walks from tree to tree. The forest grows thicker with each step, the sky up above becoming scarce. Darkness is engulfing him, but he ensures himself that keeping in the dark is better in this situation. Trying to ignore the voice that is telling him it also makes him more approachable, he takes a sip of the water he luckily had with him. He'd been walking for maybe twenty minutes now, but this forest seemed to be going uphill... and Clyde really wasn't the most fit person in their group of friends. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. A few minutes go by in silence, and he begins to walk again, looking for a place that seems safe enough to sit in for a while. As he walks, he hears a crunching of leaves on the forest floor behind him. He stops walking suddenly, and before they realize and also stop, there is the definite sound of footsteps behind him. Panic sets in, a cold sweat breaks out on his forehead. He turns around, and sees no one. The dimness in the forest surely isn't helping, and he's hoping that he made the right decision to come in here. He raises the crowbar above his head, slowly going back the way he came. Suddenly, with a quick descent of his arm, he smashes his crowbar into the tree to his right, and raises it again for yet another impact.

"Woah, woah, woah, stop you fucking idiot, it's me," a fimiliar voice calls out.

"...What?" Clyde is confused as he tries to place the voice, until the owner steps out behind the tree Clyde just marked to hell with his crowbar.

"Stop! What the hell are you doing, I'm not even holding a weapon. Put your arms down, Christ."

"...Cartman?" Clyde stands in the same position, arms still raised above his head, ready to swing the crowbar down at the tree once more.

"Yes, Cartman. Clyde, put that thing down, you're scaring the shit out of me."

Realizing that he is infact in a position to knock Cartman's head off, Clyde lowers his arms and drops his crowbar to the ground where it makes a dull thud upon impact. "I'm sorry, really, this is just... I don't know. Stupid, frightening... ridiculous."

"All good words, I guess. But holy fuck, you scared the shit out of me." Cartman's eyes lower to the weapon on the forest floor, and gradually rise back up to meet Clyde's. "A crowbar? Well, then you're certainly a lot luckier than me, aren't you? Maybe it's because Damien has a grudge against me."

"What did you get?"

Cartman reaches behind the tree and pulls out a fair sized stick, although it is just that. A stick. "See? This. This is what I get, when there are people running around with fucking explosives. And apparently crowbars. God damnit." He drops the stick to the ground, clattering on top of Clyde's crowbar.

"A stick? Seriously? If we weren't in such a... serious situation that would actually be really amusing." Clyde's face lights up with a smile. A stick. Really Damien?

"Well, I guess you're right. Anyways, why don't we get out of here? The fact that I can get that close to you in here probably isn't a good thing. I've been following you for the past ten minutes, Clyde."

"Seriously? I just noticed now. Fuck." Clyde's eyes open wide in disbelief, then narrow as he thinks of how stupid he must seem. "Well, maybe we should try to find a few others? I know what Damien said about killing us, but guaranteed people are going to be joining up. I can't see people like Stan and Kyle actually killing one another."

"Maybe you're right. Anyways, we really should get out of here. And Clyde, be sure to keep your voice down, you're practically yelling."

Lowering his voice considerably, turning his back towards the way they came Clyde responds "Am I really? I'm sorry you had to run into me of all people Cartman."

Tagging behind, his voice as low as Clyde's, Cartman answers "No, it's alright. And I'm sorry you had to run into me of all people. You must have pretty bad luck."

"I can hardly call it bad luck when you've alr-"

Clyde is cut off as Walther PPK that was tucked into the back of Cartman's pants waistline fires through the air, placing a bullet into the back of Clyde's head. Dropping to the ground, dead weight being all that is left, Cartman steps over him and continues on into the forest, the way they were originally going, picking up Clyde's crowbar along the way. "No Clyde, really. I'm sorry you had to run into me."

**~50 remaining~**


	5. A Mistake

Mercedes had been given ten land mines. Damien had told them all she needed to do was set them on the ground and hit a switch. If anyone walked near one, it would cause an explosion big enough to kill them instantly. After pressing the switch, she had about two minutes to get the hell away from them. She had started in the forest at the north end of the island and had then walked as far west as she could before coming to the edge of the island. Mercedes found a small opening in the trees and began to set up the mines, making a wide circle around her before going and sitting in the wide open space.

Wendy couldn't believe that things had already turned into this. It hadn't been that long ago that this game started and from what she could hear people were already playing. She wanted to find Stan as quickly as she could. He would make her feel safe. Walking to the north alone she felt vulnerable and scared. Damien had given her a pair of scissors to start with, and she had them clenched in her hand. _Damnit Stan, where are you?_

It had been twenty five minutes since the beginning of Damien's "game." Hell, Ethan hardly _knew _Damien. But here he was anyways, stuck in a life or death situation. He had at least managed to find some shelter. There were a few abandoned houses to the south of the island, and although the power was out in all of them, there was still enough light left outside to see inside the house, even if it was dim. He'd went into the two storey house closest to the field, feeling that less people would want to go in here as there was more room for people to hide in. His supplied weapon was a pickaxe. Yes, like something a miner would use. _Thanks, Damien, for giving me a weapon heavy as all hell to carry around, _he thinks. At first it wasn't so bad, but after twenty minutes of lugging the fucker over his shoulder, it became quite a burden. So, carrying the pickaxe and walking in the sun, with not a breeze anywhere, Ethan decided he needed to find a place to stay and put down his weapon. So he came here, to this house. The first thing he did was put his weapon on the table, to give his shoulders a break. He thoroughly checked the main floor, under the kitchen table, behind the couches in front of the wide windows. He'd even looked in the closet underneath the stairs to the upstairs floor. It was just crammed full of shit, garbage bags of old dusty clothes, an old creaky ironing board, boxes upon boxes of paper. How the hell did Damien even know of this place, really? After he looked throughout the main level, he went upstairs and first checked the bedroom to the left. He was sure to be quiet incase there was in fact anyone inside the house. After searching this bedroom, he came upon the bathroom. He checked the bathroom sink for running water, but the water had been shut off. Even if it wasn't, this place had been abandonded for so long he didn't think he'd even want to drink the water coming out of the taps. After pulling back the shower curtains to make sure no one was hiding in the bathtub, Ethan went back into the main upstairs hallway. And thats when he noticed something was wrong. The closet door was standing open. It definitely wasn't when he walked up the stairs. _Fuck! Why the hell didn't I look there first? _ He quickly made his way over to the staircase, and ran down the flight of stairs. He turned into the kitchen where he left his pickaxe, but before he could even get a hand on it, something sharp and painful thudded into the back of his head. Ethan fell to the floor, and as he reached for the cleaver in the back of his head he began to convulse.

After he was done convulsing, Thad leaned down and pulled his cleaver out of Ethan's head. Yes, he did just kill someone, but at least he didn't know him all that well. Still, a surge of guilt passed through him, but he was the one who let his guard down to begin with. And, Thad was here first. He wiped the blood clean with a dishtowel hanging from the cupboard door, and walked out the back door.

Gary Harrison had known most of these people for a long time now. But still, he wasn't that close with all of them, so it didn't seem fair that he should be dragged into this. But here he was, with a lead pipe clenched in a reverse grip in his hand. He'd been slowly making his way through the overgrowth of bushes and shrubbery to the east of the starting point at the north point of the island. He saw a few people that had remained behind, so he decided against staying there in case they were in fact planning on killing anyone. He'd been going in the same direction for about half an hour before he heard anything at all. To his right, in the middle of a short group of hedges, Gary could hear the muffled noises of someone speaking. Well, he was actually assuming that it would be two people, seeing as no one he knew actually talked to themselves. Except maybe Tweek, but that was entirely not his fault, not to mention this didn't sound like Tweek. Besides, he had started at the southern end of the island, not the northern. There was no way that he could have made it here already. Going closer and closer to the hedges, he quietly called out.

"Hello...?" There was no response that he could hear, and he took a few steps closer. "Look, I'm not going to kill you. Really, this whole thing is stupid. I want nothing to do with it."

"Fuck! Shit, fuck off, okay?" Well, that was certainly not the response that Gary had been expecting.

"...Hello? Look, really, don't worry." Inching closer and closer, Gary walked directly in front of the hedge.

He'd been sitting in these hedges for around fifteen minutes without anyone coming near him. So why now, why after so long did someone need to decide to talk to him? He clutched his Beretta in his hand, pointing it to the ground. He really had no intention of killing anyone, he didn't have it in him.

"Fuck! Shit, fuck off, okay?" Well, it really was inconvenient having tourettes in a game like this, now wasn't it. Keep hidden and stay quiet. He'd accomplished the first half, but the second was a severe issue for Thomas. He could see whoever it was coming closer and closer between the leaves in the hedge.

"...Hello? Look, really, don't worry." Thomas heard the calm voice, but as it walked infront of the hedge he saw what the person was holding. A lead pipe was tightly gripped in his hand. _If you aren't going to hurt me, then why are you holding that? _An internal debate, unspoken but very much a concern to Thomas. As Gary stepped even closer, (_Really, he can't be trying to see who it is, what the hell do I do?_) Thomas pointed his gun at the persons chest and fired twice. The shots were almost deafening, and so quick it almost seemed unreal. _What the hell did I just do? _

"Fuck, fuck, god DAMNIT." Thomas climbed out of the hedge and looked down to see Gary, eyes wide open, two holes in his chest. Blood was pooling all around him, soaking the dirt and making it an even darker colour. His eyes were glazing over, his hand still clenching the lead pipe. Looking into his surprised eyes, Thomas realized that Gary really wouldn't have killed him at all.

**~48 remaining~**


	6. Truthfully, I Love You

Cartman walked deeper and deeper into the forest, making sure there was no one following him. He didn't want someone to do to him what he had done to Clyde. But then again, he wasn't that stupid. Thankfully Damien had picked a better time to do this at. Cartman wasn't nearly as fat as he used to be. Sure, he was still overweight, but it wasn't as noticeable, and he was in better condition then he'd ever been in before. He had once again tucked his Walther into his pants, and he held Clyde's crowbar in his left hand. He kept his right hand open in case he quickly needed to grab for his gun. Walking through the forest for another five minutes, he heard the very distant sound of a gun firing. Maybe twice, maybe three times, he couldn't be sure. As the shots rang out, he heard a sudden yelp. How could he not have notice someone so close? That noise wasn't so loud after all, and he'd heard it clear as day.

"Who's there?" he asked into the silence, going for his gun. The quiet went on for a few seconds before there was a hesitant and shaky reply.

"E-Eric? Is that you?" There were only a very few people who called him Eric, and unlike Clyde before he placed this voice straight away.

"Butters? Where are you?"

"...You won't... you won't hurt me, right?" Hesitation was not something Cartman wanted in anyone, least of all Butters. Were people really this shaken up?

"Why the hell would I... Listen. I know I've been shitty to you, but I wouldn't fucking _kill _you." Hopefully Butters would trust him.

"...O..okay. Just.. just help me down, alright?"

"Help you do- are you in a tree?" Cartman looked up and caught a bright flash of orange up in the trees. "How the hell did you climb that? Especially in what you're wearing?"

"Just, just help me down!"

"Alright, alright. Fuck. Here, jump." Cartman dropped the crowbar to the ground, and lifted his arms up towards the tree branch. A pair of stockinged feet dangled down just above his hands. "...Really, you can get up, but not down? Retard, you need to jump."

"J-jump? Eric, I can't... I can't do that!" Cartman could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

"Oh my fuck Butters. Do you want down? Look, my hands are out, just jump towards me and I'll catch you. I won't look up your fucking dress, I'm not a faggot like you."

"Eric, don't be mean! But okay, I trust you, alright?" Butters shakily got to his feet and stood on the branch of the tree, his hand against the trunk. "I.. I'm jumping now, okay?"

"Fine, just hurry up." There was a scraping sound as Butters' flats raked against the bark of the branch, and the next second he was in Cartman's arms. "There, that was alright, wasn't it?"

"...Yes, I suppose it was." Cartman put Butters down, but Butters put his arms around Cartmans next and pressed into him. He was a lot shorter, his head only coming up to Cartman's chest. "I... I'm sorry Eric, I was just really afraid."

"...It's understandable, really." He could feel Butters' body shaking against him, so he gently hugged him back. "Stop being afraid, you're alright for now." He then let go, but Butters still held on. Cartman could tell he was crying. "Fuck, stop. You're fine, alright?"

"Okay, Eric... okay. I'm sorry, really." Still he didn't let go.

"Butters, look... you don't need to worry so much. You'll be fine, okay? Trust me on this. You really won't need to worry about anything." His voice stayed calm as Butters' crying slowly subsided.

"You're... you're sure? Really?" He glanced up, and Cartman could see that his eyes were still brimming with tears.

"Yes, so stop crying, alright?" As he leaned down, he grabbed his gun, and as he kissed Butters he also shot him in the side. Uttering a muffled cry, Butters arms slowly began to fall to his wounded side. Blood poured from between his fingers as he pressed his dress to his side. Instantly, the orange turned dark as blood soaked into the fabric. He looked down at his side, and then back up towards Cartman.

"E...Eric. I guess... I guess this is what you meant by not having to w-worry, right?" A smile came to his lips as he looked up into Cartman's face. "I'm not... surprised really. I know you b-better than that." Blood came out of his mouth at the last word, and trailed down to the front of his dress. He staggered forwards, falling in to Cartman, knocking him back a few steps. Cartman held on to his thin arms, making sure he wouldn't fall. After he was sure he was dead, he placed him beside the tree he had jumped from. At least he still looked decent, even if he did have blood on his face, and at the ends of his slightly curled hair. He really did make a decent looking chick, anyways. After picking up the crowbar, he noticed a hammer at the base of a tree a few feet away. He grabbed it and hung it from a belt loop on his pants. Not only did he have his own gun and Clyde's crowbar, he now had the hammer that was meant to be Butters. He certainly felt like he was doing better than a lot of others.

**~47 remaining~**


	7. A Misunderstanding, Blood and More Blood

Back at the tree near the northern starting point of the "game," Filmore still sat with Flora against him. He had leaned her beside the tree, her hand still in her lap, her legs straight out in front of her. Filmore was sitting in much the same position, only with Flora's head leaning against his right shoulder. Twenty-five minutes had gone by since he had cut Flora's wrists open. About twenty-three minutes had passed since she died leaning against him. He had cried, even if it was silently. Watching the sun go down, as daylight melted into twilight, he sat still with Flora beside him. He had done her a favour, he convinced himself. And he had. There were very few people that would have listened to someone asking such a favour. It would seem like a lie, a way to lure them in. Not that Flora would do that, but other people didn't know her as well as Filmore did. Deep in thought, wondering what he should do next, he noticed someone walking up the small hill towards the tree he was at. He stood up, gently leaning Flora's head against her shoulder. The figure came closer and closer, and because of the failing light, he only noticed it was Ike when he was two meters away.

"Ike! Good! I was just wondering-"

"Is that Flora?" Ike's eyes were focused to the right of Filmore, at the figure leaning against the tree.

"Yes, that's Flora." Ignoring Filmore, Ike walked by him, and straight up to her. He placed his hand on her forehead and felt she was going cold. He then looked down towards her wrists, and saw the blood stain a few feet in front of her, that he had unknowingly walked through. Her blood. Flora's blood. He looked back to Filmore, his eyes cold.

"What did you do?" His voice was accusatory, harsh.

"What, Ike," Filmore grasped for words. He thought Ike would have understood. "She, she asked me!"

"She ASKED you? Are you kidding? She trusted you. She LOVED you!" Ike grabbed something from inside one of his large pockets. It was long and metallic, that much Filmore could tell. As to what it was, he had no idea. It almost looked like a chain. As he was busy trying to figure out what it was, Ike unwound the chain (it was infact a chain. A bicycle chain to be exact) and began to close in on Filmore.

"Ike, what the hell? Stop!" his cry was cut off when the chain smashed into his leg. Instead of a plea, there was a howl of pain. Again and again Ike hit and beat Filmore with the chain. He hit his back, his shoulder, his face. Bloody and broken, Filmore was still breathing. "Ike," he was almost inaudable, "Ike, stop." Gasping for air, blood rushing from every limb on his body, his torso, his face. His cries fell on deaf ears, and still the lashings kept coming. Falling to his knees, unable to move his broken arms, Ike began to lash at his head. Hit after hit, crack after crack, it was a while before the hits stopped coming. When Ike did stop, the chain was soaked with blood, and bits of skin had gotten stuck within the chain, along with a clump or two of hair. Falling to the ground, a tiredness fell over Ike as he realized what he had just done to his best friend. Breaking down, crumbling, Ike began to cry.

Dylan had been looking for Henrietta for forty-five minutes minutes now. He was the only one of his "group" that had started at the northern end of the island. The sun was basically gone, and dusk was settling in over the island. He was dragging his weapon along the ground, because he really couldn't manage to hold it up any longer. How the hell did anyone manage to even find something like this anymore? They certainly weren't still used to fight nowadays. A mace. Really? Dylan really wasn't that strong, and to top it off his lungs were shit because he'd been smoking since he was 11 years old. He found a trail through the woods, and although it might have seemed stupid to walk along it, there were less leaves lining the path then the rest of the forest. Less leaves meant less noise, and less noise meant less detection. Or he hoped. His vision was almost gone due to the nighttime, so as soon as he found a place off the path that looked manageable, he would lay down and stay there until the morning. Not only did he really need to sit down, he really needed a smoke. Fuck, of all the times for smoking to really bite you in the ass, he was never expecting this. Lung cancer, maybe. Shortness of breath? Already happened. But this? No. Fuck. He walked along the path for another five minutes when he saw someone walking down the opposite way. Apparently, they had the same idea. Less noise, less attention. Dylan moved off to the side of the path, hiding himself between a few shrubs. Noisy as hell, but at least he was out of the way. Hopefully, whoever it was didn't have a gun or something so lucky as that. He couldn't really raise the mace either. Trying to stay hidden wouldn't work so well if you held a mace directly above your goddamned head, now would it? It seemed like an eternity before the footsteps eventually came closer and closer. He could see the outline of someone standing on the path. He was taller than Dylan, but that really wasn't a feat. Whoever it was was probably around 5'8'', instead of Dylan's 5'5''. He began to walk along, passing right by where Dylan was. Holding his breath, he saw a glint of something metal in the faint moonlight. But before he could do anything, pain ripped through his stomach as the blades passed through as if he were jell-o. There was no hesitation, not even when the shears began to join together while still inside of him. He began to cough, hacking up blood that just landed on top of the already considerable pool on the ground beneath him. He looked up to see who it was that would be the cause of his death. _Fuck, I hardly know him. Of course I need to run into the insane one. _ These are Dylan's last coherent thoughts before he collapses to the ground after the large shears are removed from his stomach after closing. To Josh, there is a satisfying thud as he hits the ground, although he didn't watch him fall. He watched as the shears were pulled most of the way out, dying the blades a satisfying crimson. He began to walk away before they were completely removed, turning his head away from Dylan as he fell. He looked down at the blades, opening and closing them as the blood dripped from blade to blade. Josh opened the shears fully, and held one half to his arm. Coated in blood, his arm was already a bloody mess before he felt the pleasant pain he was so used to.

After realizing what he had done, he had at least closed Gary's eyes. He didn't want to feel as guilty as he did, and it did relieve help, if only a very little. But really, what was to be expected of him? In a situation like this, it's not good to walk right up to someone who is clearly hiding. It would be somewhat more understandable, Thomas thinks, if you were out in the open and actively looking for someone. Which is what Thomas was doing now. He didn't want to be alone, and hiding was basically futile so long as he had tourettes. So, after his accident with Gary, (okay, incident, he couldn't convince himself it was an accident) he decided to go and look for Craig. The fact that couples were made to start on opposide sides of this damn island was retarded. Why couldn't they just stay together? If Damien was truly unhappy with how things were progressing, he could come in and fuck everything up. Not to mention Tweek and Annie had started on the same side, although Thomas doubted Damien knew they were together. And what about Flora and Filmore? _Fuck, this whole thing is unfair, so why am I focusing in on something so insignificant? _He had walked for about twenty minutes in one direction, to the south, since he had killed Gary. He hadn't run into anyone, although his gun was still knotted in his hand. Anyone would be welcome right now, Thomas just didn't want to be alone. He had taken someones life. Someone he knew was a good person. It might have been different if it was someone who he knew would have hurt him, but Gary wasn't like that. He never would have so much as threw a punch at Thomas. _Fuck, stop thinking about this, it's not helping you at all! _But still, the thoughts lingered in his mind. Killing someone wasn't something that could easily be forgotten, and definitely not for someone like Thomas who had never hurt a person a single day in his life.

Lost in his thoughts, but still walking along through the bushes, Thomas saw someone about twenty meters away from him. He could only make out the persons outline, but he was a lot taller than Thomas, and a lot more... built. He rationalized in his head that this person could see him as well, and they must know they could easily break him in two. He walked closer, calling to whoever it was.

"Hello? It's Thomas. FUCK, SHIT." _Fuck you tourettes, really._

"Thomas? Oh, right. It's Thad. Are you okay?" Thad? Oh right, the guy Stan knew. So obviously because Stan knew him, everyone knew him. He didn't really know Thad, but he didn't think he was a bad guy. After all, he just kind of sat around playing video games all the time.

"I'm alright, I think." Closing the distance now, Thomas can make out Thad's face. There doesn't seem to be a single threat lingering anywhere beneath his expression, which seems to be relief. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright. I ran into Ethan, I think... but he was already dead." Thad's eyes flicker briefly as he tells the lie, although it goes unnoticed by Thomas.

"Oh ASSHOLE, FUCK. Really?"

"Mhm. Didn't look too pretty either. Well... do you want to stay with me anyways? I get it if you don't, seeing as you don't really know me. But..." he trailed off, the rest of the thought didn't need to be said.

"No, it's fine really. Are you sure you want to stay with me? I'm not really the best at being quiet." Standing beside Thad now, Thomas looks up at the darkened sky.

"Don't worry too much about it." With a flick of Thad's wrist, he digs the cleaver into Thomas' upturned neck. Blood comes spurting out in rivets, and Thomas stands there, dead before he even realized what happened. Taking the cleaver out of Thomas' neck, Thad turns and begins to walk away. Thomas' dead body crashes to the ground behind him. "I'm sorry, but this is a game I can't lose."

**~44 remaining~**


	8. Unfortunate Encounters

Bradley had started at the north end of the island. He had stayed back, hoping that Kevin or Esther Stoley would come and find him. He had been sitting for half an hour, but he was no longer able to sit and wait. He stood up, using the tree as support. Leaning back down, he grabbed the sledgehammer that had been given to him. Now that it was darker out, Bradley felt that he could at least make some distance to the south end of the island. He began to walk down the eastern side of the island, carefully going down the slope he had climbed up thirty minutes before. He walked towards the shrubs when he made it down, and was just about to turn into them when a fist shot out and hit him directly in the face. Blood burst from his nose, and he heard a sickening crunch as his nose broke. Coming out of the shrubs was Kevin McCormick, Kenny's older brother. Across his knuckles were brass rings. When Bradley had been hit, he had dropped his sledgehammer to grab at his aching face. Blood was now running down his face, and he could taste it as it filled his mouth. He looked up, but unfortunately at the wrong time. Kevin's fist slammed into the side of his face this time, at full force. There was another crunching noise and Bradley's jaw separated. He yelled a hurt, muffled cry, and clutched his pounding jaw. _Think_, he tells himself. _Hammer, where the fuck did I put it? _As he catches a glimpse of it on the ground, he is once again smashed in the face, further shattering his nose. His left eye is also hit, and he feels a sickening pain as he sees red. He falls to the ground, blocking his face as best he can. Kevin kneels to the ground and mercilessly bashes Bradley's head over and over. When Bradley tried to block the back of his head, Kevin would then just as easily hit the front again. Eventually, after one solid minute of being beaten senseless, Bradley's arms became lax. They fell to the ground, unable to move. Bradley himself was unable to move. His face was a bloody mash of skin and bone. His skull had caved in in one spot where Kevin had hit him countless times. Walking away from the mess, Kevin McCormick begins to walk to the southern end of the island, keeping in between the growth of different plants.

Kevin Chambers had started at the southern end of the island. Henrietta and Ethan had gone their own ways long before. They all had an unspoken agreement that they didn't want the responsibility for one another if anything were to happen. His weapon was really not suited to Kevin at all. It was a two-section staff with a blade at the end. He just couldn't seem to get used to using it. He had been trying and trying, and although he had somewhat gotten the hang of it, there is no way he would be able to protect himself with any level of decency. He had been walking for almost an hour now, trying to get to the far western side of the island. The trees were thick where he was, and he had stumbled quite a few times. His handse were badly scraped, not to mention the shallow cuts from branches below his eyes. He couldn't see the central part of the island from where he was, he was too far into the forest to be able to see much of anything outside of trees, trees, and more trees. If he could see, he would have realized that he was almost directly in the middle of the island, just off to the side. If he had actually put thought into where he was going, he might have realized that the central part was probably the most dangerous. After all, if people were trying to meet up with others, they would most likely both be walking towards the other end in hopes of meeting up. Kevin really didn't have anyone to meet up _with_, he just didn't want to die. Yes, he'd been clinically depressed for about five years now, and had had thoughts of suicide in his mind before, but now that it came down to this... well, he realized he didn't want to die after all. As he continues to go deeper into the forest, he is suddenly tripped. And this time it isn't a stupid root or branch. A rope had been layed underneath, and in the darkness of the trees and the night he hadn't been able to see it. It is tugged back suddenly, giving him a horrible rope burn across his side. He looks to the right, in the direction the rope had moved. He sees a tall guy with red hair, still taking the rope in loop by loop, tug by tug. Kevin tries to get up, but by then Scott Tenorman had already gotten the rope gathered once again. Neither of these two really know anyone, aside from Kevin knowing Dylan, Henrietta and Ethan, and Scott knowing sadly, Cartman and thankfully, Patty Nelson. He did find it slightly amusing that he'd been fucking who his brother (half-brother!) had liked. But aside from Patty Nelson, he trusted no one, and Kevin sure as hell didn't trust anyone either. Taking the rope in his hand, towards the top but still leaving plenty of room, Scott runs toward Kevin before he can get up. He slams the rope down, and the pointed spike on the end plants itself directly into Kevin's foerhead. With a squelching sound, he yanks it back out, and leaves the area, while Kevin lies there dead.

Wendy had walked to the eastern side of the island and was walking in among the shrubs and hedges. She hoped that Stan was doing the same. He had tried to tell her at the beginning before they were seperated where they could meet up, and she hoped she had understood him properly. So far she had run into no one, but her tights had already ripped in several places because of the plants in her way. She continued laborously to the north hoping to avoid any confrontations.

**~42 remaining~**


	9. Too Many Bullets

Nelly and Millie had decided to stay together from the very start. After looking at her "weapon" in disbelief, Nelly had realized right away that she would never survive this alone. She had been given a nail file, and although the end was somewhat sharp so it could clean your cuticles, there was nothing else remotely hazardous about it. Millie on the other hand had been given a type of shortened pitchfork, while the tines ended in large, pointy spikes. Now that could definitely be used as a weapon.

"That's seriously what you got?" Millie asked Nelly as she saw what she was holding. "Please tell me that's just yours and you were given something else?"

"Nope." Nelly was staring at the file in disbelief. "This is what I got. Really? What the hell am I going to do with this?" Tears welled in her eyes, there was no stopping it. She didn't want to kill anyone, but the pitiful weapon she had been given just assured her death.

"Nelly! Don't cry, really. It's alright. You can come with me, and we'll find a way to get out of this. Okay?" Millie smiled at Nelly, hoping to give her some sort of hope. "Besides, look over there. There is someone else that you can just tell doesn't want to be here. We'll make it through." Nelly looked to her right, and saw an unfimiliar face looking down at his weapon in absolute horror. It was a hatchet, it looked like, but that look on his face said well enough he couldn't use it. After contimplating for a while about what to do, Nelly and Millie walked over to the boy.

"Hey, are you alright?" Nelly asked.

The boys face shot up, looking as if he'd been scared nearly half to death. "I... I'm fine. I'm sorry." His voice was trembling. He was clearly terrified of the situation.

"Look, you can come with us, if you'd like. My name's Nelly, and this is Millie... you would be?"

"M-me? My name's Kip. S-sorry, I don't think I'll be of much use to you, really." He looks down sadly, thinking to himself they will now leave him stranded, alone to die on this island.

"That's alright, really. We don't want to hurt anyone anyways. Besides, I got a shitty nailfile. Do I even look mildly threatening holding this?" Nelly holds up her nailfile, a smile on her lips. "We really don't mind, so don't worry. You're safe with us, for as long as we can be safe."

Finally, the shocked look disappears from Kip's face and he manages a smile. "Do you really mean it? Thanks a lot. Umm... I was just wondering if..." he trails off, once again nervous.

"If?" Millie asks. "Don't worry, really. I'm sure we won't mind you asking."

"Well, Bridon should be here somewhere, I saw him before on the southern side. Would you mind if we got him to join us...?" his voice had started strong, but when it got to asking the question, they had to strain to hear him.

"Bridon?" Millie and Nelly both ask. "You mean the one who is really good at playing basketball, right? The really attractive one a year younger? Why is he here? I didn't know he talked to any of us... Actually, I didn't know you did, either." Millie continued.

"Well, yes, that Bridon. Umm, well, I talk to him so I guess I got dragged into this too, and.. well. B-Bridon talks to S-Stan? I think that's his name. They're... they're actually pretty good friends from what I know."

"Well, sure. I don't mind him joining at all, really. It would be nice to have a bigger group anyways," Millie said.

"Is that him over there, near the big tree?" Nelly points to the very southern tip of the island, where a tall, solitary tree stands on it's own, surrounded by large rocks.

"I... I think it is," Kip replies. "Br-Bridon!" Kip's shout barely reaches Millie and Nelly's ears, let alone Bridon's. It had been nearly an hour since everyone was told what they were meant to do. These four were the only ones in the area, although Bridon seemed to be fidgeting with something near the tree.

"Bridon!" Nelly called out. "Hey, Bridon! Come-" Bridon snaps his head up, but along with that, he also moves his hand. Held tightly in his grip is an Uzi. Before he thinks of who is calling to him, his only thought being _They're going to kill me, _he pulls the trigger and the automatic weapon shoots out into the night. Wild bullets fly past all three of them, but some also make contact. With gross force, they rip through the bodies of the three that had only wanted Bridon to join them. The bullets do not stop flying until the magazine in the gun is empty. Lying on the ground in a heap, Nelly is still clutching her nailfile, because in the end it was the only thing she had to hold on _to. _Part of her face had been torn apart by bullets, a spongy gray matter that is probably brain is lying on the ground beneath her. On top of her in Millie, whose throat had been pierced by three bullets, almost ripping her head clean off. Her eyes are glazed, unbelieving. And at the top of the pile, there is Kip. Standing the closest to Bridon, and partially blocking the other two, he had to worst of the hail of bullets. They tore through him everywhere, bullets had torn his head apart, one flew into his eye socket leaving a gaping hole overflowing with blood. His torso was riddled through and through with dark holes. His neck, arms and legs had all been shot at least once, but he had at least died before landing on top of the other two, and quickly.

After the clip had emptied, Bridon stared at what he had done. He didn't mean for it to happen, it was just... just an accident. He didn't mean for it to happen, really. He felt like crying, but no tears would come. It was too unbelievable. He couldn't wrap his head around what had happened. Slowly, he walks toward the pile of bodies he had just murdered, and upon seeing what he had done, he leans to the side and throws up. His head is pounding, and he runs. He has sense enough to put another clip into his Uzi, but aside from that, Bridon is quickly going insane.

**~39 remaining~**


	10. A Home Run, a Shock

Henrietta had been hiding in the bushes almost immediately from the start. She had gone off to the eastern side of the island, making sure no one had been following her. She had pushed herself in between to large bushes closer to the central field of the island. Most people she saw had been running as far into the field as they could, so she figured it would be safer for her to remain close to the front of the growth. Henrietta really had no intention of killing anyone, not to mention it would take a lot of skill to do just that with the butter knife she had been given. She had noticed a few of the weapons other people had been holding, such as a wire of some sort, Ethan had had a pickaxe, and someone else had gotten a gun. Not too long ago she had heard a long burst of fire, probably coming from the very gun she had seen that kid holding earlier. From the amount of bullets being pumped out of it, she imagined that whoever had been hit must not look too pretty. After sitting in the same position for nearly an hour now, her legs had begun to cramp up. Being quiet, she listened to see if anyone was near. There were no noises, not even a bird that she could hear were near her. She quickly moved her legs, so they were spread out in front of her, pointed out towards to field. After she had readjusted herself, she picked up her knife and looked closely at it. She could see her reflection, slightly distorted. Her makeup had smudged slightly, and her hair was a wreck from climbing into the bushes, but she had other things to worry about. She had wanted to start off on the same side as Dylan, but that was clearly not going to happen after Damien had told them of the "rules." So not only were they meant to kill one another, they had to sit like she was doing, or risk being killed in order to find whoever they loved. With the odds stacked against ever seeing Dylan again, Henrietta tried to remain calm. She had at least been able to say goodbye to Kevin and Ethan, seeing as they had started on the same side as her. She couldn't imagine how pissed off Dylan must feel, being the only one of their group starting to the north. Henrietta moved her leg back up towards her chest, crinkling the fallen leaves below her feet. _Wait, what was that? _She had thought she had heard another noise when she had moved her leg, but she figured she was just being paranoid. She lifted her head slightly, to see if she could see anyone moving out in the field. There was no sign of movement that she could see to the west, so she quickly moved her body around to face the eastern side, deeper into the bushes. From behind her, there is a shuffling sound, so she moves her body around. She sees someone dart to her right, and she starts to stand up. The top of Henrietta's head is smashed into by something unseen. It almost knocks her unconcious, but she manages to hold on. She grabs onto her knife and blindly stabs to the right of her, and feels as the knife makes contact. She hears a sharp intake of breath before she is once again smashed in the head with whatever it is that is hitting her. She collapses to the ground, shielding her head. Angling her head slightly forward, she sees a girl holding a baseball bat, positioning to hit her once again. _Fuck, I'm done. And it had to be by one of the fucking idiots from Raisins, didn't it? _There is a loud thud as the bat makes contact with Henrietta's back. Instinctively, she reaches down to where she had just been hit, vocalizing a scream of pain. She is hit in the head seconds later, with an audible crack as her skull gives way. Pieces of bone lodge into her brain, and she starts to convulse. Still, Ferrari continues to hit Henrietta over the head as blood slides down the bat, flying up into the night sky every time it is once again raised. When Henrietta is no longer moving, Ferrari stops and looks down at what she has done.

"Like hell I'm dying here. Sorry if you weren't expecting it, but that's just one more closer to my win."

The cut in his arm was still throbbing lightly. To Josh it was a pleasant feeling, something that gave him comfort. His shirt was soaked in the blood that had fallen from the shears he held close to him. The blade was so sharp, so large. It worked much better than the razors he had become so acustomed to. After killing Dylan, he had walked out into the middle of the field. He really didn't care if he died, he had nothing he wanted to hold onto. His family was a joke. He had tried a few times to leave, but it never really worked out. He was just dragged back, and the beatings he was given were far worse than they normally were, although his father never hit his face. That was his selling point, after all. He was skinny enough, and by the time he was ten years old, his father figured it was time he was old enough to share. So not only was his own father fucking him, he was passed around once a week between his dads fucked up friends. Fifty dollars, good until you finish the job. And sure, there was his mother. Not that she was the most stable woman herself, but she did share in the money Josh made for his father. _Nice necklace mom, how did you afford that? _The passing around had stopped four years after it started, although the rape from his father and uncle continued until he was sixteen. By the time he was seventeen, he supposed he was too old for them anymore. The beatings still continued, until Josh saved enough money to go and buy a gun. He took it home, just a small pistol mind you, and shot his father and mother in the head while they slept. He had then went to his Uncle's a few blocks over and done much the same to him. Now that the torture was physically over, there were still far too many mental issues Josh had to deal with. Sure, talking to Stan a few times had helped him, and he had actually managed to feel happy for the first time in years, but when he had to go home and think his own fucked up thoughts, he would bring out his razor blade and slice into his arms. So yes, Josh didn't care if he died. He was now nearly to the east side of the northern part of the island, after starting more to the west. He noticed a little strip of buildings near the edge of the island, not exactly houses but more like stores. He walked towards them, hoping to find someone else he could kill. Sadly, this was the most pleasure he had gotten out of anything in a long time. When the blades had pierced Dylan's stomach, it had been the best feeling ever. Josh couldn't believe how easily they had slid into flesh, and how easy it had been to let the blades meet while still inside. He slowly walked into the second building in the lineup. He stood a few feet inside, letting his eyes get used to the darkness inside.

She had heard the door creak open from the back storage room she had hidden herself in. She hoped it was someone she could join up with, because quite honestly, Red just didn't want to be alone. She was hoping to run into Craig, but unfortunately she couldn't find her cousin anywhere. She also didn't want to risk going out and getting killed. Craig was probably hiding somewhere too. She hoped. But now there was someone inside the building with her. _Why here? _she thinks. _There were plenty of other buildings to choose from, so __**why**__ this one? _She slowly moves as far back in the room as she can. Red can hear footsteps as whoever is inside is walking towards the back room. There is no electricity in here, it was the first thing she had tried when she walked in the store. Although it was slightly warm out, she was now freezing.

"Anyone here?" a voice calls. Red freezes. She knows that voice, but can't quite place it. And it sounds eerily happy. "Hello?" They call out once more. The door to the storage room opens, and she can make out the outline of whoever it is, not that it helps her much in figuring out who it is. She moves back a few feet, only to bump into the wall. A surprised gasp escapes from her mouth, and Red is well aware that whoever is in here heard it. He is facing her now, and she can see his expression through the dark. He is smiling.

"Ahhh, so there is someone here after all. Why didn't you tell me?" The smile doesn't leave Josh's face, and he pulls the shears open, the large blades still facing the ground. "Who are you?" His voice has changed, it now sounds angry and deep. Not the someone pleasant voice Red had heard seconds before.

"Red." Her voice shakes slightly, but there is no reason to ignore him. He can clearly see where she is, and it would only piss him off more to ignore him, she realizes.

"Mmmm... I don't think I know you. But I'm Josh." The smile is back in his voice, although Red notices that the blades are now pointing directly at her chest.

"Don't come near me. I won't do anything, so please just leave."

"Oh, but that's really not the point of the game now, is it? And don't worry, you'll die quickly. These blades are so, so sharp." He angles the shears away from her, and places them near his throat. With a light slide, not enough to do serious damage, blood still slides down his neck, and soaks into his already blood-stained shirt.

"No." She is terrified, and hopes he just leaves. Get out, now."

"Ahhh, I can't do that." He takes a step towards her, once again pointing the shears towards her, although they are now level with her stomach. Suddenly he lunges forward, diving at her with the shears held out in front of him. Red quickly holds out the taser she had in her hands the entire time and fires. A shock flies out and connects with her intended target. With the blades inches from her stomach, Josh falls to the floor convulsing. To Red it would look like he was having an epileptic seizure if she hadn't been the one to do this too him. Slowly, his body starts to stop moving. Moving a few steps closer, Red once agian tases him. There is a quick jolt, but nothing more. Josh was dead.

**~37 remaining~**


	11. Panic, Burning Bright

Sally was terrified. She had no idea how she could possibly live through this. Her weapon was some sort of spiked chain, about five feet in length. There was no grip, so as she carried it with her she had to be sure to not stab herself in the hand with it. She had started the game off by sitting to the very tip of the northern edge. At the very edge of the island, the land was slightly raised and there was a short fall to the waters below. She had sat at the edge for around ten minutes before she heard the explosion, (that had killed Token, unknown to her) and she had decided she had better not sit in one spot. If she was going to sit in one area, it was basically a way of asking someone to target her with whatever had caused that sound. Much later she had heard gunshots pierce the air, and even later she had heard a burst of shots ring out. That's what scared Sally the most. Sure her weapon could cover some distance, but up against something like a gun, she didn't stand a chance in hell. With each passing moment, Sally became more and more afraid. More and more paranoid. Her own shadow had scared her earlier, and now that it was dark, even the slight breeze rustling the trees overhead scared her near to death. She didn't even realize that she had gripped onto her weapon with such force that a few spikes had dug into her hand. She was now dragging the flail along the ground behind her, ready to lash out at the first thing she spotted. After walking for another ten minutes she does just that. A few feet in front of her, she sees someone holding a weapon of some sort over their shoulder. She gets closer and closer, and when she is within range she lashes out and hits them in the leg.

"Fuck!" they cry out. Their eyes look up, and turn wide when they see Sally, who is ready to strike again. "Sally, stop! Sally! It's Stan!"

"Stan! Get away from me! Leave!" she cries hysterically.

"Sally, no stop!" the flail lashes out again, barely missing his torso. "Sally, STOP."

"If I.. If I stop, you'll... You'll..." her eyes focus in on the weapon Stan is carrying and she begins to cry. "You're going to kill me! As soon as I put down my weapon, you'll grab that and SHOOT me!"

"Sally, what? No! Don't be stupid!" He tries to reason with her, but Stan is realizing it might be futile. She seems to be losing her composure, ounce by ounce, second by second. Normally Stan would have put his shotgun down, but under the circumstances he didn't think it would be a wise decision for him.

"Stupid? You think I'm being STUPID! I'm not falling for it Stan, I'm not!" She raises her arm high above her head, and goes to lash out once more. Before she can muster any strength up, she hears a loud blast. There is no pain, and only when she looks down and sees the wide hole where her stomach used to be does she utter a high pitched wail. Sally crumbles to the floor, her legs failing her. She can see inside herself, she can see the organs that are meant to keep her alive as they begin to slide from inside of her to the ground below, coating the grass in a thick slime of blood. On the ground, she clutches at where her abdomen used to be seconds before. Her eyes are wide with shock, they are unbelieving. Sally is dead before she completely registers what has happened.

The shotguns report was louder than Stan had imagined it. It might be because it was quiet out, but it did stun him for a few seconds. When he looked over at Sally, she was looking down at the gaping, bloody hole that his gun had torn through her. She cries out in shock, and tumbles to the ground. He didn't want to kill her, but if he hadn't have done that, she would have ripped his face to pieces. Without looking back at Sally, Stan runs south and into the trees, ignoring the pounding in his leg from where he had been hit.

Thad had no use for trying to make it through this with the help of someone else. Quite honestly, killing someone didn't bug him as much as he thought it would. Put into a position like this was shit, there was no doubt about it. But when it came right down to it, he was prepared to kill anyone if it meant him living through this. He would have prefered a ranged weapon surely, but he figured he was making out alright with the cleaver he had been given. Killing Ethan had been pretty lucky, he hadn't expected hiding around the corner to work so well. Thomas he did feel slightly guilty about, but at the same time he couldn't really blame himself too much. You can't be too trusting in a situation like this, and maybe Thomas was planning to kill him? Aside from these thoughts, Thad also knew that he wanted this game to end as quickly as it could. Which meant that Thad was hunting, for lack of a better word. It did seem morbid, but the scenario was twisted. After killing Thomas, Thad had walked towards the field in the middle of the island. He saw faintly someone more towards the south walk slowly into the bushes he just emerged from. He didn't think he'd been spotted, but he went after them in a hurry nonetheless.

Although Heidi knew that a lot of her friends, and this town itself, had issues, she never thought something like this would happen. Sure, this all lead back to Damien, but them knowing Damien lead back to this fucked up town. And now she was stuck running for her life. She was in good shape, so she could run for quite a while without being tired. She had started more towards the south-western side of the island, but after hearing the rapid gunfire close by, she ran through the centre of the field as fast as she could towards the bushes on this side of the island. As she ran into them, she did see someone begin to follow her towards the north of the island. If she had a gun, she would have shot him in an instant, seeing as they were most likely out to kill her. Why else would they keep themselves hidden in the bushes like they had just done? She brought her hand down to her pocket to make sure that her weapon was still in there. Sure enough, it was, and although she wasn't sure she would be winning any fights with it, she was glad she had it. The first thing she had done was made sure that it worked properly. After all, Damien had thrown them into this situation without hesitation, so Heidi wouldn't have been surprised if he would give them malfunctioning weapons. She slowed to a walk as she got about fifty meters into the forest, and turned to face the north to see if she could find who was following her. She stopped movement altogether and strained her eyes as much as she could. About twenty meters away, she could make out someone. And without a doubt in her mind, it was the person that had followed her from before. From the size, it was definitely a guy. Maybe that French kid they knew, or maybe it was Ethan? It didn't matter. Heidi grabbed her weapon from her pocket, and put her finger on the trigger.

Thad had done a good job of following her from a distance. He had made sure that he ran into no one else on the way, and there didn't seem to be anyone else around here either. Looking at her now, Thad realized that he had been seen from the beginning after all. Not that it made any sort of difference, if she had had a gun she would have shot him by now. He knows he can easily overpower her, so he begins to walk towards her.

"Stop. There. Just stop," she calls to him. He can see now it's the girl named Heidi, although he doesn't know anything about her aside from her name.

"This needs to end one way or another. I'm just making it quicker," as he moves towards her, he sees the realization dawn in her eyes as to who he is. And she also looks worried because she knows as well as he does that there is no way she can overpower him. He walks closer and closer, slowly closing the distance between them.

"Just turn around and leave, I don't want to do this." She isn't panicking as much as he figured she would be, he realizes. It's not too much concern though. He walks closer and there is now a small distance between them. Thad holds the cleaver tightly in his hand, unwilling to throw it. If he misses, or if she somehow dodges, he is fucked. She moves quickly, and he sees she has a small bottle out. She throws it towards his feet and it smashes onto the ground, splashing his shoes and the base of his pants. _What the hell is she doing? _He puts the cleaver above his head and takes a slow step forward. Suddenly, she falls to the ground, something else in her hand. A flicker of light, flame, goes off near the ground. She is holding one of those small but long lighters used to light candles and barbecues. The light grows brighter, the flame bigger, and before he realizes what is happening, his shirt has caught fire. He drops the cleaver to the ground and begins to pat at his flaming clothes. There is a sharp pain against his chest, and before he can even manage to control the flame already leaping over his body, more fuel is thrown onto his chest from the small vial that just burst against him. His hair catches as he utters his first scream of horror, his first scream of pain. His legs feel charred, his chest is burning. And oh hell, his head, his hair is on _fire _and where the hell is the _water? _

As she looks onto the burning body in front of her, she catches her first whiff of burnt flesh. Her stomach churns, but she manages to keep herself composed. Thad Jarvis is now a burning pyre. There is a sickening pop as his eyes burst, his mouth a wide open O. He falls to the ground, and thankfully he lands on the path and the bushes do not catch fire. Agonizing screams fill the night, loud enough for everyone to hear. His skin is the colour of charcoal, the smell is unbearable. Heidi covers her mouth and nose with her hand as she turns and runs deeper in the forest.

It is four minutes before the screams stop, and it is another two minutes until the flames go out. When they subside, all that is left of Thad is a burned skeleton with charred chunks of flesh still stuck to it. His mouth remained open until the end, letting scream after scream escape from deep within his burning chest.

**~35 remaining~**


	12. Putting Out The Fire, A Few Surprises

Stan had started to the far western side of the island at the north. Of course the place he had mentioned to meet with Wendy was at the opposite side of the damned place. He had walked along the very northern part so he could avoid people. Unfortunately, it didn't quite play out as he had wanted and he had already been forced to kill someone. The scene kept replaying in his head, the shells ripping apart Sally's stomach and the shriek she had let out. Trying to push it as far from as his mind as he could, he continued on his way to his meeting point with Wendy.

Ike had cried for ten minutes after he had killed Filmore, and he was still silently crying now. But he had deserved it. He was partly angry at himself for not being able to protect Flora, and partly mad that this was even happening at all. He had cleaned the chain off in the water close by, throwing up twice while doing it as pieces of skin peeled off and floated in the water. Still, there was a bit of blood that was stuck to the chain, but Ike didn't want to spend any more time scraping his dead best friends blood off of the weapon he had used to kill him. Now all Ike wanted to do was find his brother. He had started to walk to the houses he could see to the distant east side of the island, but he had run into someone along the way there. Which is exactly what he didn't want to do, although he did have an advantage. Ike's weapon was ranged, and although Pip's fire poker was fairly long, he would still need to be right near Ike to do any serious damage.

"Can't you make Damien stop this? You are the one that he's fucking around with, after all."

"Aha, that might be so, but unfortunately I really have no control whatsoever when it comes to what Damien does." You could hear the smile in Pip's voice as he responded.

"So, you're just someone else he's using for his amusement? He certainly fucked you over in the end, didn't he?" Ike retorts.

"Well, I suppose you're right... but there isn't anything that I'd particularly like to change about what I've done."

"Nothing at all? He's was using you the entire time. You get that, don't you?"

"Of course I get that, I'm not that stupid. Although Damien might have been using me, I'm just glad that I was near him. I don't really see the point in fretting over minor details like having my love returned."

"Minor details? What happened to you?" Ike stand with his chain partly wrapped around his hand, ready to attack Pip.

"I suppose this town happened to me. Damien as well."

"I don't have anything else to say to you, really," Ike finishes.

"Oh, well, that's just delightful, because I never had anything to say to you," Pip holds the fire poker in both hands, like a staff. Ike whips his chain towards Pip, but misses by inches. Pip jumps forward and tries to strike Ike in the stomach with the pointed end of the poker. Ike drags his chain back and lashes out once more, grazing the side of Pip's leg, tearing a small gash into the side of his pants. Pip then jumps back, and stands waiting for Ike to attack once again, which he does. Pip hold the poker out in front of him, one hand held near the top, and one near the bottom end of the poker. He holds it out in front of him horizontally, and as Ike's chain makes contact, it beings to wrap itself around the fire poker. Getting the effect he wanted, Pip tugs the poker towards him, making Ike stumble forward, not realizing what had happened until it was too late. Pip jerks the poker to a vertical position and forces Ike to let go of the chain. Now, raised above his head, Pip slams the fire poker down onto the top of Ike's head, the pointed loop on the side digging into his skull. Blood mats Ike's hair, and the last person he thinks of before Pip pulls the poker out of his head is Kyle. He falls to the ground, face first, breaking his nose on impact. Ike doesn't feel this though, he is already dead.

Esther had tried to meet up with her brother, but when she finally did find him, he had run away, not realizing it was her. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to either of them by calling out his name, so she let him run. She followed him, hoping to meet up with him later. Maybe when the sun was up, she would meet him again and he would be able to see it was her. But for now, it was too dark to do much of anything. She felt much safer at night, and decided that she needed a place to stay for the night. She might not get much sleep, but she could at least try to find somewhere. There were a few houses around where she was, so she went to check them out. She needed to be quiet, because her weapon wouldn't serve much use if they knew she was coming towards them. When she reached one of the houses, she slowly and quietly pushed the door open. It lead into the kitchen as far as she could tell. There was a fridge to her right, counters to her left and maybe a stove if she could see properly. There was a broom closet a few feet from the front door, and a large window over the sink. She took all of this information in within a matter of seconds, and then focused her attention to the center of the room. There was a large table, with four chair surrounding it. And in one, the one facing away from the door she had just entered, there was someone sitting. Perfect situation. She pulled out the thick fire she had been given, already folded over a few times to make it stronger. She crept up to the girl sitting in the chair, and quickly placed the wire against her throat, pulling with all her strength.

Ferrari was jolted backwards as something began tightening aroud her neck. She had been too preoccupied trying to close the wound Henrietta had given her when she was trying to stay alive. _Bitch, that was just a lucky shot. _And now she was paying for her carelessness. She couldn't breath, her airways were cut off from the wire cutting into her throat. She could hear herself struggling to get air, the choking sounds she was making. And she sounded pathetic to her own ears. She clutched at her throat, trying to separate the wire that was now actually cutting into her skin away from her throat. Whoever was behind her did not slacken their grip at all, and her vision began to darken. Just as she was on the verge of passing out, a thought occured to Ferrari. If she had managed once before, please let her get the strength to manage once more. She pawed at the table, looking blindly for what she needed. It seemed like an eternity before her hands finally closed in on what she was looking for. With as tight a grip as she could manage, she swung the baseball bat behind her. The wire fell from her throat, and there was a surprised yelp from whoever had tried to kill her. With her side stinging, her throat burning, and her throat gasping in air, sweet air, Ferrari regained her composure as quickly as she could. The wire was now lying useless on the floor, unusable by the girl who had just almost killed her. Bringing the baseball bat forward, Ferrari hit home not once, not twice, but countless times until Esther was as unrecognizable as she could be.

Kevin Stoley didn't want any part of what was happening. He was worried about Esther, he was worried about Bradley, and he was worried for himself. He knew that Damien would surely only let one person live, so he wanted to meet up with his sister as soon as he could. That way, Kevin could do his best to make sure that the one person was Esther. He had walked from the west side of the southern tip to the east, hoping to come across someone. He had distantly seen Nelly, Millie and someone he didn't recognize talking, but he also saw Bridon standing by a tree looking at the gun he was holding. He also saw him load it, so he moved away as quickly as he could. (This was a good decision on Kevin's part, seeing as if he had gone to talk to the other three, he would have died along with them.) He was given a tranquilizer with several darts to load into it, but Kevin really had no way of carrying the extras with him. He wasn't going to hold on to something lethal, and he had no bag to carry them in anyways. So he had loaded as many as he could into the tranquilizer and threw the rest into the water where hopefully no one would step on them. It was now close to 1 am, and Kevin could no longer keep walking. He was near the beach, but the ground level was going uphill. Kevin walked to the top, only to realize that he was now on top of a sort of cliff, and looking over the edge he could see the waves crashing into the rocks below. He sat down on the cliff, away from the edge. Looking over made him naseous, and although he had thought suicide was a way out, he couldn't manage it without seeing Esther first. And there were much better ways of doing it than jumping off this cliff and landing into the cruel waters below him. His back was towards the east side of the island, which was covered by more and more rock. To the south there were the overgrowths of bushes and shrubs, but Kevin figured more people would be hiding there, and no one would have thought to come here because it was more open. He was right, for the most part. Most people were either hiding within the trees or the bushes, but there were a few like Kevin who had avoided them and gone to houses, or stayed near to the center of the island. And there was one more, like Kevin Stoley, who had stayed near the cliff at the far northern tip. An axe was slammed into the back of Kevin's neck, breaking bone and killing him almost instantly. There was a second for him to feel an intense and sharp pain in the back of his neck, and then he felt nothing. Christophe removed the axe from the back of his neck, and watched as the blood began to trail down the cracks in the rocks as Kevin fell backwards into a lifeless heap. As he began to walk away, he once more heard one of the loud explosions that had filled the air near the beginning of the game.

**~32 remaining~**


	13. Forgotten Images, Two Bullseyes

Wendy had been sitting in the same spot for nearly twenty minutes now. This was around the area they had agreed to meet, the top end of the northern island to the east. She hid herself deep within a large bush and waited for Stan. Within another ten minutes, there was movement to Wendy's right. The first thing she saw was the shotgun and panick pierced through her. She held her breath and waited for the person to come into focus, her useless scissors clenched to her chest. Stan took two more steps and Wendy realized who it was.

"Stan!" She jumped up from where she was and ran towards him.

"Wendy! You did understand? Good! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine... are you alright?"

"I guess. Better now that you're here. I... I had to kill Sally."

"Sally?"

"She thought I was going to kill her. You're sure you're fine?" He looked her up and down, her hair tangled, leaves and small twigs twisted in, the rips along her tights.

"Perfectly. I haven't seen anyone. Thankfully."

"Good. Just stay with me, alright?"

"Mhm. Thank you."

Lexus didn't really like the fact that she had been given such an uncertain weapon. The first grenade she had thrown worked well. She even saw Token walk closer to it as it caught his eye. Thankfully, she had looked away before it had blown up. If she hadn't, she doubted very much that she would have been able to throw another. She had seen someone running across the field an hour or so ago, and had thrown another grenade out into the field. They didn't notice it, and they had kept on running right in the direction it had landed in. Seconds passed as Lexus' head was turned away, but there was no crash. She looked back, and faintly saw the outline of the grenade in the field, and whoever had been running now far in front of it. It had been a dud. _Great, not only do I not want such a tactless weapon, I want something that is guaranteed to work. _But here she was once more looking into the field to see if anyone was running through. Sure enough, there was someone, walking a few meters away from her. She looked out of breath, her hair was a mess, and her clothes were beyond dirty as they were caked with grime and mud. There were leaves stuck in her hair, and there was a dazed look on her face. Even if someone were to come up right beside her, Lexus didn't think this girl would be able to run away. But it all might be an act, she realized. Maybe she had seen Lexus already, seeing as she was only about twenty meters or so away, and dragging herself closer and closer. Lexus pulled a grenade from the stack she had carefully made, and pulled the pin. She threw it towards the girl walking towards her as quickly as she could and she heard and saw it land only a few feet away from her.

Heidi looked down at the noise by her feet and saw a small canister-type thing in the grass close by. If she had have tried to run, she wouldn't have been able to. And as the grenade blew up, taking Heidi right along with it, her last thought was _At least the image of Thad will be out of my head now._

Red had been sitting in the storage room for a few hours now, too afraid to move. She was sure that Josh was dead, but she didn't want to step over him. She knew she couldn't stay here, Josh had showed her that. The next person to walk in the building might be someone with a gun for all she knew. She had drifted off, leaning against the wall, and she had been woken up by a loud thud that seemed to come from this room, followed by several more.

"Hello?" she called, her voice thick with sleep. There was no answer, and she held her taser in front of her, ready to use it again if she needed to. She looked to her left, and she searched to her right, but there were only boxes. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, everything was the same as it was before she had carelessly fallen asleep. She slowly got to her feet, and called out again. Still the silence remained around her, and she became panicked. She knew someone was in here with her, and if they weren't answering it wasn't a good sign. Red walked slowly back towards the door to the storage room. There was another loud thud, much like the one that had woken her up to begin with. She uttered a strangled cry, and ran to the front of the building. She slammed the front door open, letting it crash behind her. She ran blindly, unaware of where she was going, having no goal in mind as to where she _wanted _to go. A few seconds after she had left, she fell to the ground not knowing what had happened. She reached behind her, feeling a large metal object sticking out from her back. She tried to get up, knowing not to pull it out blindly. When she was kneeled over, one hand on the ground and her knees bent on the grass, another bolt flew out and connected with her head. Red was killed instantly.

Francis' plan had worked out perfectly. He had seen someone run into this building a while before and as he was walking towards it, planning on shooting with his crossbow whoever had gone in, he had heard talking. And it didn't sound particularly pleasant, either. He hid behind the building, and waited there for a few hours too afraid to move. No one had come out of the building, and after a few hours he had decided to climb to the roof of the building. It wasn't particularly tall, and he had managed to catch onto the roof with one jump after throwing the crossbow to the roof ahead of him. He managed to drag himself to the top of the roof, and after grabbing his crossbow he jumped once, causing a large crash. His plan had worked, and when he had walked to the edge of the roof, he had immediately seen the door fly open. He aimed his crossbow and fired once, hearing it connect with his target, and the crash as she fell to the ground. Looking down, he saw that she was still moving. He also noticed the nice dress she was wearing, and knew that it was Red. _Fuck, why her? I wouldn't have killed her! _ Knowing now that she wouldn't be able to make it through this game anyways, he raised the gun as she tried to stand. Her attempt was futile as he fired the bolt into her head. _Red, I'm so sorry, really. _Francis threw the crossbow to the ground, and jumped to the ground. He picked up his weapon, and began to leave the building moving to the south, the opposite direction in which Red was lying.

Although Porsche was really dumb, she understood well enough what they were meant to do. She didn't know the name of the weapon she had been given, she just knew how to use it. It was fairly simple to understand, thankfully. Maybe Damien didn't really hate her. She held a long stick, about a meter in length. Attached to the end was a sharp blade of black metal. It wasn't a scythe, but it's base rose from the bottom to the top almost like a triangle, just a bit more curved at the tip. She had been looking for either Lexus, Mercedes or Ferrari. Porsche hated to be alone, and it was easy enough for people to make her feel weak and stupid. Now, on top of her knowing she would never survive this on her own, she was terrified. She'd seen the explosions, heard the gunfire. She had almost run into Thad (Ferrari's boyfriend, sure, but he was coated in blood and she couldn't see a single mark on him) and Josh (who was also soaked in blood, although his arms were cut open) but she didn't think she could trust either of them. Her hair was tangled to hell, her makeup was smeared near her eyes, and her clothes were caked with dirt. Although she did hold a threatening weapon, she didn't look very dangerous. She looked, in all honesty, very pretty. She might not have been the smartest person ever, but she was beautiful. She hadn't thought about hiding in the trees or bushes, so she had mostly been walking along the Northern half of the island. She was more towards the middle of the island than the North, closer to the field than the shops that were spread around. She had sat on a rock for quite a while, digging into the ground with the sharp end of her weapon (a sling blade) stopping occasionally to look up at the darkened sky. She listened to the birds, and heard the uproar and displeasure when gun shots or explosions broke out. Porsche didn't want to die, but she didn't really see a way around it either. That's why she wanted to find Mercedes before she died. She didn't want to be alone. She got off of the rock she had been sitting on and walked towards the bushes to the east. Maybe that's where Mercedes was? Porsche hoped she didn't need to look long. It was the only thing she wanted. As she began to walk towards the east, she caught movement to her right. She looked over, and saw a girl, shorter than she was with brown hair. She was running towards Porsche, holding something held in her hand. She could only make out a taped handle, the rest was behind the girls back. Without thinking, and being afraid, Porsche threw her weapon in front of her and towards the girl. She fell to the ground with a gasp, the blade piercing her chest. Beside the fallen girl was what she had been holding. A tennis racquet. Porsche ran forward and knelt beside the girl.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! You were just running, and I thought, I though that you were going to kill me!"

"No... my... fault." Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was laboured. Porsche knew that she wasn't going to live for long. She tried to smile, she didn't want this girl to die afraid and alone, even if it was her fault.

"What's your name?" she asked. The girls eyes flickered open, and Porsche could tell she understood what was happening. And still, she managed a smile.

"Karen... McCormick."

"Kenny's sister, right?" Porsche continued to smile, even as she was crying. Karen was crying too, although she was still smiling as well.

"And... Kevin's. If you... if you see them, then tell them..." she trailed off, unable to continue. Blood rose in her mouth, and her face became strained with pain.

"Don't worry, I'll be sure to tell them." She knew what Karen had meant. It wasn't hard to understand the situation, after all.

"Thank... you." Karen closed her eyes, and stopped breathing. Although she must have been in immense pain, she still managed to look peaceful when she died. Porsche stood up, taking hold of the weapon deep in Karen's chest. She apologized as she removed it, and after standing by her for a while longer she left, once more looking for Mercedes.

**~29 remaining~**


	14. Just a Few Nicks

Lexus was once again looking at the field, trying to see if she could make out anyone walking through it by night. This is how Liz found her, completely unfocused on whatever was going on behind her. Although she would have been alerted if anyone had made noise, Liz was small and able to move carefully and quietly making next to no noise. She had narrowly avoided being blown to pieces right along with Token earlier in the day, and had seen where the grenade had been thrown from. Not wanting to come directly for Lexus, who was obviously playing this ridiculous game, she entered the trees about fifty meters away from where Lexus had been standing. As she was making her way towards her, she had had to stop several times and look for shelter. She had seen Cartman walk by her, his shirt soaked in blood. Liz wasn't sure if it was his or someone else's, but she didn't particularly care at the moment. It was someone's, and that meant people other than just Lexus were doing their best to kill the others. She had also seen Bebe walk by, but she decided to avoid her incase she wasn't quite herself. Besides, she looked intent on finding someone (probably Kenny) and Liz didn't want to be a burden on her. This had all happened in a matter of hours, and now Liz was standing feet away from where Lexus was intently straining her eyes, trying to see any sign of movement far ahead of her. Liz crept up behind her, mere feet away and swung her arm sideways towards Lexus. The blade of the butcher's knife sunk into her side, and she gave a shout of pain and rage. She clutched at her side, dropping the grenade she had been holding.

"Fuck!" blood poured through her fingers, soaking her shirt and pants instantly. It fell to the forest floor, unseen in the darkness. "You bitch!" She lunged forward, even though she had no weapon that would be of use up close. Her outstretched fist made contact with Liz's side, but on the second time round the only thing it connected with was the knife. Two of her fingers were sliced wide open, and Lexus howled in pain. She looked at her ruined fingers, cut halfway open, blood pooling into her cupped hand. Liz didn't give her time to act again. She moved forward and stuck the knife deep into Lexus' chest. Not being too strong, there was resistance, but it was enough. Lexus fell to the ground, the knife still embedded in her chest. She clutched the grip in her good hand and gave a tug. The blade was ripped from her chest, only to have even more blood come pouring out around her. It was less than a minute before Lexus was dead. Liz took the knife back, and ran to find somewhere to hide in case anyone had heard the screaming.

She had been looking for Kenny since this damn game started. She knew he was incapable of hurting anyone, even if they planned on killing him. So it was up to her to make sure he was alright. She was tired, that was true, but she kept herself awake by constantly moving and being too afraid to stop. She had seen Liz a while back, but Liz had gone by without saying a word so Bebe let her go. Besides, she probably had better things to do than come with Bebe and help her try to find Kenny. It was still dark out, and she was terrified that she was going to run into someone, or be shot in the back and she would be left unable to see whoever had killed her. She was walking through the bushes, trying to make her way to the southern end of the island where Kenny had started. As she walked through the endless trees, darkness falling around her, she felt something streak by her face and slam into the tree directly behind her. She instinctively raised the stiletto she was holding out in front of her. She walked closer to where the object had come from, walking through thick mud and piles of leaves. A shrub to her right moved suddenly and a painful sting rose from her left side. She ran towards the shrub, and dug the blade of her knife into it. It connected, she felt as the thin blade pierced into whoever was in the bushes. They had tried to kill her, they had thrown _knives _at her! She lifted her arm, feeling the blade release from where it had sunk it, and slammed it down again and again. There were painful grunts from inside the shrub, but Bebe ignored them and kept stabbing. Blood splashed up when she raised it and spattered her face, leaving little drops of red sliding down and falling into her long blonde hair. After thirty seconds of stabbing, she raised her knife and looked to see what she had done. Sprawled out in the growth was the classmate she had grown up with. She didn't know Jason very well, but she still felt guilty after looking. Countless stab wounds ran into his chest and neck, blood covered his entire front. Looking at him, she wanted to cry. But she also wanted to find Kenny more than ever.

Stan and Wendy continued along through the bushes. When they had met, Stan let Wendy sleep. They were both tired and could hardly move. After an hour he had woken her up and then gone to sleep for an hour himself after giving her the shotgun. Explosions and gun fire had woken them each at least once, but they had fallen back asleep comforted by the fact that they weren't alone. Wendy was worried about Bebe and she wanted to find Cartman (she hated a part of herself for ever caring for him in the first place) and Stan wanted to find Shelley and Kyle. After sleeping through part of the early morning Stan knew the sun would be coming up in a few hours. Wendy agreed that where they were was probably not the best spot to stay so they made their way to the southeast, going deeper into the growth.

**~27 remaining~**


	15. Too Many Voices

The only good news Annie had recieved since this started was the fact that Tweek was also starting on the Northern part of the island with her. Damien must not have known that they were dating, which worked out well for her. They had been quiet about it, just because they didn't want to be bothered with questions of "Why?" Tweek had been suffering from not only depression, but schizophrenia for the past four years. She had liked him for a long time, but was always too afraid to say anything, but she became worried when his drug addiction had started, and she noticed the marks from knives or razor blades running up and down his arms. She had told him she liked him, and tried to help him as best as she could. It took a while, but things had begun to improve. The drugs intake had slowed down, and although withdrawal was hard when he stopped altogether, they got through it as best they could. And now this was thrown into their faces. What was all the struggling for if this was how it was meant to end? She needed to see him one more time, and was intent upon finding him. They had started at almost opposite ends of the Northern side. It was now almost three o'clock in the morning, and the air was a bit cold. Annie hadn't run into anyone alive, and she rightfully considered herself very lucky. Although she was tired beyond all belief, she couldn't really afford to sleep. She held her wrench in one hand, just incase someone decided to attack her from behind. She had stayed to the North for almost an hour, hoping to run into Tweek. After no luck, she went into the trees on the West side, thinking Tweek might have gone to shelter straight away. She had come across Dylan's body in the bushes, and after seeing his mutilated stomach she had thrown up. There was a trail of blood leading down the path, so she avoided it as much as she could in case whoever had killed Dylan was still nearby waiting for someone else. She walked deeper into the woods for almost half an hour before she came upon Jason who had been stabbed countless times. It wasn't nearly as gruesome as Dylan had looked, and although the urge arose, she managed to keep her stomach settled. She decided to walk northeast after she had seen Jason. She had walked for nearly half an hour (just missing being spotted by Cartman, who would have easily killed her) without hearing any gunshots or explosions. She took this as a good sign, maybe whoever had the guns had been killed. Or maybe they were taking a break, but either worked for her. It was nearly four o'clock before she heard a gentle whispering, rising louder and louder a few meters away.

"Shut UP. Fuck, go away!" Annie walked closer, slowly and quietly. She didn't want to be spotted just in case she scared whoever was there. "Shit. Stop TALKING. God DAMNIT." Annie heard the crinkling of leaves, and saw a figure move a few feet away from her.

"Shit, just stop okay? Please?" This time, she recognized the voice instantly.

"Tweek?" He spun around rapidly, his eyes wide and afraid. Annie noticed the screwdriver held tightly in his raised arm. "Tweek, it's Annie. Just calm down, okay?"

"Annie?" Relief filled his face, and he began to walk towards her. Suddenly he stopped, and once again began to talk, "Why, no, stop, stop, SHUT UP."

"Tweek? Tweek, calm down! Please!" She took a few steps forward, dropping her wrench to the leaves scattered on the ground. "Just calm down, please."

"Go away, go away. Fuuuck," he held his hands to his face, still holding the screwdriver tightly. His voice was low, and he was now mumbling to himself slowly.

"Tweek?" He looked up and seemed to realize that Annie was there for the first time.

"I'm... I'm sorry." She hadn't seen him this bad, even when she had needed to stop him while the razor blade was placed to his arm. He was once again shaking, and he seemed constantly paranoid.

"Tweek, just, just put the screwdriver down, okay?" She hadn't realized that she had been crying until she realized how pathetic her voice sounded. "Just calm down, alright?" She once more began to walk towards him, placing her arms around his neck and pressing her body to his when she was close. Seeming to realize that yes, this _was_ the Annie that he loved and trusted, Tweek slowly but firmly placed his arms around her waist. He laid the side of his face to the top of her head, and they stood like that for about a minute. Suddenly, he pushed back, startling Annie.

"Stop, stop, STOP. She wouldn't DO that, she would never do something like that!" Although Annie only heard one end of this solitary conversation, she knew exactly what was meant.

"Tweek, stop. Calm down," her voice was shaking. "I'm not going to hurt you, okay? Please believe me."

"I know, I know. Fuuuck."

"Just... just let me come near you okay? I have no weapon, see?" She held her empty hands up to him, and he was once again back to normal. She walked towards him, and slowly put her hands on his shoulders, keeping a small distance between them. She slowly put her hands together behind his neck, and she felt him put his arms around her once more. After about thirty seconds, his hands fell from her waist, but she kept her hands around his neck. Her tears fell to the ground. _Thank God I found him. _The screwdriver Tweek had been holding slammed into Annie's chest. Pain darkened her vision, and she moaned deeply in her throat. The screwdriver slid out of her chest, and plunged once more back in, on the opposite side of the front of her chest. Blood filled her mouth, and fell from her partly opened lips. Twice more the screwdriver ripped into her, causing her to cry out in pain. Her arms fell to her sides, but her body leaned against Tweek's. She looked down in amazement, and in the darkness she could see where she had been stabbed. Her shirt was stuck to her with her blood.

"Annie? Oh my God, I told you she wouldn't DO anything, why the hell did I... why did I..." his voice was an agonized moan and he held her ams to keep her upright. "Oh fuuuck, Annie. I'm so sorry, please, please please be alright. I didn't mean, I would never, oh my God."

"Tweek..." she coughed up blood but she knew she needed to continue talking. "Listen... to me." She raised her head using all the strength she could manage.

"I'm so so sorry, don't do this, don't, shut UP, Annie, please."

"Tweek. I'm... I'm glad I found you. I know... this wasn't what you meant." More tears were falling to the ground, Annie and Tweek's combined.

"No, never, I'm sorry, oh God."

"You... you know that I love you, right?" She leaned heavily against him, her head once more facing to the ground below. Her eyes were closed.

"I love you too, but please be okay." He lightly shook her body, looking for a response. "Annie?" He shook her body harder, trying more forcefully to achieve something that could no longer happen. "Annie? I _told_ you she wouldn't do anything, why can't you believe me? Why, why, why? God damnit, god DAMNIT." Tweek's voice was gradually rising as the realization hit him. "Shit, this wasn't supposed to happen." Crying, he gently lowered Annie to the ground, first twisting her around so her back was to him. She sat down hard with her back against his bent knees so she was laid out infront of him. He placed a kiss on her head, and with the screwdriver that he had never let go of since getting it, he stabbed himself in the neck. The blood spattered Annie's already blood soaked shirt, and Tweek's body began to jerk as the blood drained from his body. After a while he was still, his body hunched over Annie's.

**~25 remaining~**


	16. Digging a Grave, Never Letting Go

Lola had heard Lexus' screaming, and much like Liz expected, she started in the direction she had heard it from. Lola had seen earlier that it was Lexus with the grenades, but she didn't want to risk going in to kill her. It sounded like someone else had done the favour anyways. Walking quickly towards where the screams had come, with her shovel over her shoulder, she almost ran directly into Liz who was running in the opposite direction. Lola looked at Liz's hand and say the knife that she held, covered in blood up to the handle. The picture was clear enough. Liz had killed Lexus, and she was now on her way to kill someone else. Lola jumped back, the blade of Liz's knife slicing the air inches in front of Lola's stomach.

"You killed her?" Lola asks, almost breathlessly.

"She was trying to kill people, don't you see that?" Liz responded.

"You just tried to kill me too, Liz. Don't act all innocent."

"I was just startled, Lola. Don't be ridiculous."

"Then drop your knife, Liz."

"Put down the shovel." A smile crossed Lola's face, and Liz knew she had no intention of doing that. "I think I'll hold onto this then." Liz sprung forward, the knife outstretched in her hand. There was a loud clang as the blade of the knife came into contact with the bottom of the shovel Lola had been holding. With an rise of her arms, Lola moved the shovel and quickly knocked the knife out of Liz's hand. Liz quickly ducked down and tried to reclaim the knife that she had dropped, only to be bashed in the head with the shovel. She sprawled to the ground, the knife now out of her reach. Conciousness almost left her, but she kept herself awake. She began to sit up, trying desperately to get the knife back so she would have some chance against Lola. As she folded her stomach forward, leaning towards the knife while still sitting, the shovel leant it's resistance as the tip was placed against Liz's stomach. Trying to scramble away, Lola once more knocked Liz in the head and then placed the shovel to Liz's stomach. She placed her foot on the top edge of the shovel, and began to press down with her bodies weight. Liz screamed in pain as the shovel began to indent into her stomach. It was sharper than she had expected, not at all dull. The shovel dug into her waist, and with the added force Lola was giving it with her body, Lola broke into Liz's skin. With relentless pressure, the shovel went farther and farther into Liz's stomach, piercing through her easily. Blood splattered onto the metal of the shovel, and splashed onto the shovel's handle and the bottom of Lola's pants. As Liz's eyes widened and she tried to squirm away, she screamed loudly disturbing everything nearby. Still the shovel dug deeper into Liz, until at least her screams quieted. The shovel was halfway into her stomach, and when Lola pulled it out it was coated with blood. Lola looked down, and saw that Liz's stomach had been ripped open, and that her intestines had been sheared into pieces as the shovel dug into her body. She leaned over and threw up, wiping her mouth when she was done. She wiped her shovel in a pile of leaves, trying her best to get the blood off of it before walking away.

It was around six in the morning when Kyle woke up. He had fallen asleep in one of the Southern houses. (Lucky for him, it was one of the ones a few doors down from where Ethan had been killed by Thad.) He sat up and slowly rubbed his eyes. He leaned over and grabbed his bag off the floor, taking out a small electronic device, and a needle. He then grabbed a small bottle that held the clear liquid, and after checking his blood sugar level he injected the right amount of insulin into his right side. When he had fully woken up, he looked around the small room realizing for the first time that it wasn't his own. This was not where he had fallen asleep, everything that had happened was just a dream. Wasn't it? He grabbed his things, not forgetting the straight razor he had folded under the pillow. Apparently, everything was real after all. Some of his friends were probably already dead. He hoped that Ike and Stan were alright. He didn't know what he would do if he came across them, finding them already dead. He walked out of the bedroom, the straight razor now open in front of him. He walked slowly down the upstairs hallway, checking all the rooms to make sure they were empty. He was in luck. No one seemed to have come in here while he had carelessly fallen asleep. Walking to the staircase at the end of the hall, Kyle carefully made his way down the steps. At the bottom landing, Kyle looked out at the living room, not noticing anything that seemed out of place or odd. Everything looked normal. He walked towards the front door, and opened the closet to the right of it. There was no one inside. He turned around quickly, and began to walk towards the kitchen. As he walked closer and closer, he began to smell something he recognized. Smoke. His pack was still in his bag, and he definitely hadn't lit one up since this stupid game began. So why did he smell smoke? Sure to be quiet, he made his way into the kitchen, the entranceway at the opposite end of the living room, on the opposite side of the front door. He hugged himself as close to the wall as he could, and looked into the room. Sitting at the table was someone he recognized all too well. The person he had foolishly slept with, almost ruining his relationship with Stan. (Not that Stan hadn't slept with Wendy in the past. Although, Kyle had to admit he had certainly slept with Christophe a lot more than Stan had ever slept with Wendy.)

"Christophe?" Kyle walked into the kitched, his razors blade now pointed toward the tiled floor. Christophe turned his head towards Kyle's voice, a cigarette between his lips. His hair was a mess (not that this was particularly unusual for him) and his stubble had gotten longer than normal. He looked tired, but also happy to see that Kyle was finally awake.

"Finally. You know, I could have easily killed you."

"Chris... when the hell did you come in here?" Kyle was mentally hitting himself for being so stupid.

"Around... two, I suppose?"

"What time is it now?"

"Around 6:30, according to my watch. I guess it's accurate, seeing as it's beginning to get light out again."

"Have you slept at all? And is it really... Fuck. I'm glad it's you that came in here, and not someone else."

"Aha, I guess you're lucky." Christophe stood up and made his way over to Kyle, who was still standing in the kitchen's doorway. "And no, I haven't slept. I couldn't very well leave you upstairs while anyone could come in and kill you, Kyle."

"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep, but... I was so tired. Have you seen my brother? Have you seen Stan, either?" A quick flash of annoyance passed over Christophe's face at the mention of Stan, but Kyle didn't seem to notice.

"No, I haven't seen your brother. But... well, I have seen Stan."

"You have?" Kyle's voice became hopeful, and his face lifted up towards Christophe's. He was nearly a full foot shorter, she he needed to look up to see his face.

"Mhm. Kyle, look. Let's not talk about Stan, okay?"

"What, why? Have you seen Gregory? Is he okay?"

"I haven't seen Gregory," Christophe's voice now held a hint of annoyance. "And Kyle, Stan is dead."

"...What?"

"I didn't want to tell you. I'm sorry." Christophe looked down into Kyle's face, and saw as he silently began to cry. He took Kyle's hands and gently removed the straight razor from Kyle's grip.

"Dead? Are you sure?" Kyle's voice was a strained whisper, and Christophe held Kyle against his chest.

"Yes, I'm sure. Look, we can get through this, okay? I'll find a way so we can both make it out."

"What are you talking about? I have to go and see him, I need to see what you're talking about. You're wrong, he's not dead." Kyle pushed away from Christophe, and began heading towards the front door.

"Kyle, what are you doing? If you go like this you'll just get killed," he walked towards Kyle, holding his shoulders and keeping him back.

"Chris, let go. I need to go find Stan."

"Kyle, you're not listening. Stan is dead." Kyle spun around to face Christophe. Although there were tears still trailing down his face, he looked directly into Christophe's eyes.

"No, he's not. Stop lying to me. I need to go, so just... let go!" Christophe had once more put his hands on Kyle's shoulders, more forcefully than before. Kyle tried to struggle away but he made no progress as Christophe was much stronger than he was. "Chris, stop. You're hurting me."

"Kyle, don't be stupid." He held his ground, keeping Kyle right where he was. "And stop asking about Stan, he's dead."

"No, he's not," Kyle's eyes blazed with anger now. "I don't know why you're lying to me, but let go of me." He stopped struggling and stood still, waiting for Christophe's grip to relent. When there was no sign of him letting go, Kyle once again tried to get away from Christophe. He jerked his body to the side, making Christophe's right hand loosen from it's grip, shooting off to Kyle's side. With a flash, the straight razor was up and out, slashing across Kyle's throat in an instant. Gurgling noises began to eminate from Kyle's mouth as blood poured out over his lips. He held his hand to his throat, not fully understanding what had happened. When he pulled it away an saw the blood that had covered his hand in a matter of seconds, his eyes grew wide, his face became pale. He fell to the floor, his hand once again back to his throat. Christophe silently watched as Kyle lay below him, his life running out of him along with his blood. And who really cared anyways? If he wanted to see Stan that badly, Christophe had no use for Kyle after all. He walked back to the kitchen and grabbed the axe that he had leaned against the unusable stove. He wiped Kyle's razor against a shabby, falling apart dishtowel, folded it and placed it into his pocket. Stepping back out into the living room, he looked down at Kyle who lay dead on the floor. Christophe stepped over his body, his boots making a loud echo in the now quiet house, and began to walk towards the front door. Maybe he could find Stan himself.

**~23 remaining~**


	17. Tourniquets and Nails

For the past couple of hours, Ferrari had been looking for something to stop the bleeding coming from the cuts along her throat. Although she didn't think it was life threatening as the bleeding was slow, she needed to take her mind off of it. Not only was it irritating, it stung whenever something brushed past her, making her whisper a quiet curse. She had moved through the field at night, keeping close to the western side in case she needed to run and find safety. She had seen the explosion caused by Lexus' grenade, and had also heard her shouts as she was murdered. Although they were friends, and good ones, Ferrari wasn't going to risk her life to help her. She had more important things to worry about. She had started at the Northern end of the island, but quickly made her way South. After killing Henrietta she had gone into the house to try and clean out the stab wound Henrietta had so kindly given her. But after her run in with Esther, Ferrari had decided to move back to the Northern end of the island. She thought she remembered seeing some sort of stores around there and hopefully one would have a wrap of some sort she could use to stop the bleeding. She was tired and she had also used up a lot of her energy. When she had finished with Esther, she had ripped a part of her shirt off and used it to tie around her waist, covering the wound caused by the butter knife. Although Ferrari was dizzy, she could see the buildings off to the left of her now. She began to walk towards them getting closer and closer. And there, right there, she could see what she wanted. A drug store. Although this island did seem to be deserted, there was still furniture in living rooms, still appliances in kitchens. So maybe, just maybe, the drug store would still have things on its shelves. She walked in through the front door, giving way to a horrendous squeak as it lurched inwards. Through the noise she could still make out the tiny sound of a bell jingling above. She didn't care about the noise right now. She needed tylenol, she needed water, and she needed something to bandage her neck. Her eyes felt heavy in her head, and she was dragging her baseball bat on the floor behind her. She looked from shelf to shelf, hoping to find what she needed. In the center isle, she did find a wrap. Quickly, she ripped open the packaging and began to unravel it, then wrapping it back up again around her neck. The pressure hurt slightly, but it was also kind of relieving. Looking to her left she saw in the next isle bottles of tylenol and aspirin, along with allergy medication and cough syrup. She walked towards them, still dragging her baseball bat behind her. As she turned into the isle, she saw someone near the end, slightly blocked by the front of the shelves. He was looking directly at her, and although he looked slightly fimiliar, she couldn't place his name. _Looks like the tylenol will need to wait, after all._ She picked up the bat, and began to move towards whoever was there as quickly as she could manage.

"Wait, stop!" She barely heard him say anything as he stepped out fully from behind the shelf. "Stop!" he cried as he saw she had not slowed down at all. The bat was raised, angled behind her body on the left so she could hit it to her right. Towards him. She charged forward, ready to hit him as hard as she could when something loldged itself into her throat. New pain erupted from within her body, and she fell to the store floor clawing at the bayonet sticking up from her throat. Shaking, trying desperately to get it out from her neck, Ferrari died.

Gregory looked down at the girl lying on the ground below him. He hadn't wanted to kill her, but he also needed to defend himself. He took the bayonet from her throat and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Why he had decided to forgive everyone for being a complete ass to him when he was younger was now beyond him. Scott Malkinson (no longer with a lisp, thank you speech therapy) was pissed off and afraid. He had finally made friends with these people, and only a year or so later he was now in this situation. He knew that Damien had issues, (most of them did after all) but this was ridiculous. You can't just make your friends kill each other for your amusement. But, then again, maybe you could. Seeing as that was what was happening right now. Fuck. He had loaded his weapon in what he thought was the right way. There was a long string of nails trailing behind him, but he didn't know what else to do with them. What kind of aim would he need with a nail gun in order to kill someone anyways? He had seen Kip, Nelly, and Millie all get shot to death by Bridon. Bridon wasn't normally violent, he wasn't normally _angry. _It was a really stupid idea to have called out to him in a game like this anyways. He had probably been startled, which is why he shot them. But now, trying not to think of the pieces of skull ripped off of the three that had been shot, trying to tear the image of bodies riddled with bullets out of his head, Scott Malkinson was hiding behind the largest house at the southern edge of the island, almost at the end of the line of houses, far from where Ethan had been killed last night. He had seen a few people walking back and forth while staying here, but if they got to close he would move to the side of the building hiding himself from their view. This had been working for hours now, but now he was slightly fucked over. He had heard someone enter the house not too long ago, and that made it slightly dangerous for him to move to the side. There was a large window that you could see out of that would easily show where he was if someone happened to be in that one room. And now, someone was walking towards him. Although they were still quite a while away, he didn't want them to see him move when they got too close. He slowly moved towards the side of the building, trying to keep as low as he could to keep hidden from the window. After twenty minutes, Scott looked around the building, and saw that whoever had been walking towards him was no longer anywhere in sight. Maybe they had already gone by without him noticing, but they most likely turned into the trees to the west. He sighed lightly, and stood up quickly. It was almost completely light out again, and he knew he would need to be more careful. Unfortunately for him, he had forgotten that he was crouched under a window. He looked to his right, and saw standing in the room opposite the window, someone holding a machete. Without thinking, Scott pointed the nail gun at her, and shot. At first the glass splintered, cracking down the middle, the sides, the top. As more nails punctured into the glass, the whole thing gave way. With a large crash, glass flew inside and out, cutting Scott's stretched arms and hitting his shoes when it landed to the ground. The girl inside fled to a different room, but it was too late now. Scott jumped through the window and chased after her. As he ran, glass crunched under his feet, sounding like gravel as followed the girl through the house. He turned the corner and raised the gun, shooting just as she turned round another corner. He heard her inhale sharply and he knew he must have hit her somewhere. He chased after her yet again, and when he turned the corner (now into the living room) he couldn't see her anywhere. As he slowly walked around the room, he heard a loud squeak and turned around quickly. A chair from the table next to the couch (which she had been hiding behind) was flung at him. He let out a scream of fright, and put his finger to the trigger and pulled. The chair flew by him, far to his left, smashing into the small coffee table in the centre of the room. Stray nails flew around the room, and some came into contact with her legs and arms. She cried out in pain, and suddenly, the nails stopped. There was an angry click coming from the nail gun. Looking down in confusion, wondering if he had already run out of nails, she charged towards him. He pressed the trigger with a futile attempt. The gun was stuck, and nothing was going to come out. Raising the machete she had never let go, Patty Nelson slammed down onto Scott Malkinson's wrist, causing him to drop the nail gun and shriek in pain. Without giving him time to react, she whacked him again and again, hitting his back, shoulders, legs, chest and neck. He fell to the ground, sobbing in big gasps as burts of pain filled his body. Still, the relentless hacks continued.

Patty Nelson kept the machete rising and falling until she was certain he was dead. The loud crack it made when it connected with his skull would have been enough to tell her he was dead, if she had heard it. Instead, she continued until his side was raked with cuts, his neck a bloody mass. His face was coated in blood that had run down from the side of his skull. Finally, Patty Nelson's frenzy came to an end. Out of breath, blood covering her shoes, her face, her arms, she threw the machete, fell to the ground and broke into sobs that shook her entire body.

**~21 remaining~**


	18. Par

Stan and Wendy were both cut and scratched by the twigs and branches running wild around them. They were at the farthest eastern point looking for a small spot that they could sit and rest for a while. As they walked, Wendy's ankle got tangled in among a bundle of twigs and upraised roots on the ground. She tried to move forward and almost fell straight down, twisting her ankle in an unnatural way.

"Shit!" Stan spun around and looked down at Wendy.

"Are you okay!" He quickly walked over to her and looked down at her ankle which was already swelling.

"I'm sorry Stan."

"Don't worry. Just, let me get you untangled, okay?"

"I can manage that... I just don't know how I'll get through here." She began to untangle her ankle, cringing slightly whenever she needed to move her foot in the slightest. After she had gotten untangled, Stan helped her up and gave her the shotgun to hold on to.

"...What?"

"I can't carry you and that at the same time, Wendy. Take it."

"Carry... What?" Without waiting for consent, Stan reached and grabbed Wendy's waist. He pulled her up to his back, carefully putting her feet around to his front so he wouldn't knock her ankle against anything.

"Stan! Put me down!"

"You can't walk, Wendy. Just trust me, okay? Hold that, and fire if you see someone coming near us. Hold onto my shoulders as tightly as you can, okay?"

"...Okay." She leaned her head against his, holding her arms around his neck, the shotgun resting down across his chest. Carefully they made their way through the shrubs.

The sun was now up in the sky. It was around seven in the morning, and unknown to Rebecca already thirty two of her friends had been killed by one another. She wanted desperately to find Mark, to make sure he was alright. He would make her feel safe, and would fight to keep her alive. Being homeschooled had caused a few problems in her life already, but there were benefits. She was smarter than most people she knew but this also had it's downside. Most people couldn't relate to her when she did get to meet them, and she was labelled as a freak. People tended to avoid her, and she would go home countless time crying. Her parents would tell her not to worry, she was just too smart for them to understand and she would say it was alright. But it wasn't. Mark was the only one who really understood her, and before they became good friends with all the people in this game they had been kicked out from their home. It was understandable to them why their own parents kicked them out, but Mark and Rebecca both wished their parents would see it from their point of view. They hadn't been able to fully get to know anyone for fifteen years of their lives, and being that close to someone, brother and sister or not, lead to problems. Yes, she loved Mark, and he loved her right back. So when Rebecca's mother and father had come home earlier than they were meant to one day and had caught them having sex on the couch, things did not end well. She was fine living with Mark, and she was perfectly happy with the friends (okay, most of the friends) she had made, but she still missed her parents. And so did Mark. Any attempts to contact them ended with a click of the phone, or a door slammed in their face. He was all Rebecca really could count on now, all she had to truly love and trust in her life. Some of their friends knew their relationship and they did or said nothing about it. How fucked up must a person be for their relationship to be okay truly be? She had talked to Kyle about this and had broken down to tears, but he just held her against him while sitting on her bed and told her not to be stupid. She was who she was, and nothing else mattered. She had been walking around looking for Mark throughout the night, but now that the sun was back up she had found a place to hide. Unknowingly, she was hiding meters away from where Christophe had killed Kevin Stoley, but Rebecca had gone along the beach and carefully scaled across some of the rocks. She stopped just before the waves became too rough, and had sat down on a small dent in the cliff, her feet resting as best they could on the bumpy rocks below. She could hear and see the waves, she could hear seagulls crying now that the sun was out, and she could smell a faint scent of seaweed on the air. Listening to the calming noises intently, trying to tell herself everything was okay, she heard footsteps on the cliff above. There was a small overhang, but if whoever was up there looked down they would still be able to make out her legs. She couldn't move them closer to her, the dent she was sitting in wasn't big enough and she would surely fall into the water and do more damage than anything. _Please don't look over. Please. _Much to Rebecca's dismay, she looked up towards the cliff and saw part of a dirty metal object dangling partway off the side. Beside this and higher up, Rebecca looked into the emotionless face of Lola. The blood had hardened to the shovel over the hours she had been walking, but it didn't stop it from being usable. The shovel came crashing down on the rocks directly above Rebecca's head. She let out a scream, and quickly but carefully made her way back to the sandy beach. She hadn't let go of her weapon once, and although it was awkward to hold onto a part of her had told her she would need it eventually. She jumped to the beach as soon as the distance was small enough and she looked back towards the cliff. Lola had made her way down the rocky slope and was now standing a few feet from Rebecca.

"Lola, stop! I won't hurt you!" Rebecca pleaded. Lola gave no response, she just continued to stare at Rebecca. "Lola?" Rebecca was frightened, not only because Lola wasn't answering her but because she seemed completely unaware that anyone was talking to her.

After Lola had killed Liz, it kept playing in her head on repeat. She could hear Liz's screams, see as the shovel dug farther and farther into her stomach. Eventually a part of Lola had been lost. She could only think of what she had done and didn't care about anything around her. Bebe had tried to talk to her, but had left after seeing the look on her face. Now she was here with Rebecca. She could vaguely tell she was trying to talk with her. It was probably just loud accusations, it being entirely her fault that Liz needed to die. It wasn't Lola's fault that Damien had put them in this game, didn't they get that? She didn't want to be bothered anymore. She erased these meaningless thoughts from her mind and ran towards Rebecca.

Rebecca stood motionless for a few seconds as Lola ran towards her with her shovel held in both hands ready to hit Rebecca at full force. "Lola, STOP!" Her cry broke her paralysis, and just as Lola was about to swing, Rebecca swung her weapon first. The golf club shattered Lola's left wrist, causing her to shriek in pain and drop the shovel to the ground. Rebecca thought she might be able to reason with her now, but she saw as Lola tried to pick up her shovel from the sand. Unable to believe it, Rebecca stood in stunned silence as Lola clenched the shovel in her right hand, her left dangling useless by her side. She raised it above her and tried to smash it into Rebecca's head. This time Rebecca didn't stop. She swung the golf club (like you would in a game) and came into contact with Lola's face. Blood came from her broken nose, and still she tried to attack Rebecca again and again. Rebecca hit Lola in the stomach as hard as she could, causing her to fall to the ground. She then raised the club above her head and brought it down onto Lola's fallen one. She smashed into her head four times, each time hearing a sickening crunch as her skull gave way a bit more. Her golf club was soaked in blood. Rebecca threw up into the sand behind her and gently wiped her mouth. She began to walk away, but a wave of tiredness suddenly fell over her entire body and fell to the ground, unable to move.

**~20 remaining~**


	19. A Fall And Some Waves

Shelley had been given a pistol as her weapon. It's chamber could hold six bullets at once, and she was given enough bullets to reload it fully once. She figured she must be lucky enough to get a gun in the first place, but there was no way she could survive the entire game on twelve bullets alone. Besides, as much as she bugged the shit out of Stan, it would be easier for Shelley to put the trigger to her own head than to his. She was trying to stay in one area for the entire game, and so far she was doing a good job. She had avoided being seen by four people already. She was tired, but since she hadn't moved too far from the area she was staying in she felt like she could stay awake and alert for a long time to come. If someone came near her from one direction, she would hide to the bushes in the other direction. If they came from that direction, she would run towards the buildings to the north of her and hide there. She could easily avoid people coming from the east or west by circling around the shops until they were out of sight. Fifteen minutes ago, she had noticed someone coming from the south of the island along the field. She darted towards the buildings and went behind the small convenience store. She had been waiting here, glancing around occassionally to see if they had changed course or were still coming towards her. The last time she had checked, they were more east than where she was sitting, but still along the long stripmall type setting she had been hiding among. the buildings were all close together, a small alley between each building offered plenty of shade to hide among even during the day, although she still avoided the sides of the buildings because then someone could from from the north, east or west and circle around her without her knowing. Being on either the front or back of the building, people could still manage this, but she had a clearer view of where people were coming from and could avoid them that much better. She crouched forward while still behind the convenience store, and looked towards the east once more. There was no sign of anyone being there anymore, so she made her way round to the front of the store. As soon as she stepped out from the alley way, a large metal bolt shot out of nowhere, barely missing her side. She had been prepared to run from someone coming from any direction on the ground, but she had never thought to check up above. She looked up and jumped out of the way as another bolt flew past her. She ran to the east, trying to get as far away from the shooter as possible. She ran past the drug store Ferrari lay dead in, past the abandoned grocery store, and she yelled out a scream of horror when she saw Red lying dead on the ground, a bolt placed in her back and in her head. (She didn't know Josh was dead inside the building she was no infront of.) Another bolt barely missed her, and Shelley realized she had stopped running when she came upon Red. She looked up towards the rooftop and saw someone she barely recognized loading another bolt into the crossbow he was holding. He had it pointed and ready to fire, only a few seconds too late. Shelley fired the gun she had been carrying with her, making a direct hit with Francis' head. The bullet pierced through the bottom of his chin, leaving a gaping hole at the top of his head where it had made it's exit. Bone, skin, hair and brain flew up and then pattered down like a hard rain on the rooftop. The crossbow fell with a clatter, and Francis fell forward, falling off of the roof lying dead only a few meters from where he had killed Red hours ago. Shelley stared down at the smoking gun in her hand, and ran as fast as she could away from the area she had stayed in for hours.

Stan was carrying Wendy on his back and they had just passed by Bradley's corpse. His face was almost unrecognizable, and Stan had needed to put Wendy on the ground so she could throw up into a nearby hedge. When they had heard the gunfire close by, Stan quickly put Wendy on his back again and went once more into the bushes. Stan gently placed Wendy onto the ground and took the shotgun in his hands. He crawled out from the bushes and quickly made his way over to the house. He hadn't been positive, but he thought he had seen Shelley by the buildings. When he got to the unit closest to the bushes, he carefully leaned against the brick wall and looked out to the front. He could see someone not too far away that might have been his sister, but Stan didn't want to risk calling and putting Wendy and himself in danger. He walked back to where he had left Wendy sitting.

Rebecca had been sitting in the same position for fifteen minutes. Her head was spinning and her stomach was unsettled, but she thought she was finally able to move. She got to her feet and stood still keeping her eyes closed while trying to calm down her head. She knew that Lola was a few feet away, dead because of her own actions. It made her feel sick all over again, and she once more lurched forward and threw up. She opened her eyes and stared straight ahead. Eventually her head stopped spinning and she began to walk forward. She made it a few feet past Lola before she realized that she had forgotten her golf club. She turned around and went to pick it up.

A longsword was awkward to carry around but it wasn't nearly as heavy as Brad Dixon would have thought it to have been. It only weighed around five pounds, and he could easily swing it from side to side. He had to avoid going into the bushes, and he was careful as he walked through the trees to avoid crashing the large weapon into anything. He was walking along the southern part of the island, heading from the trees on the west to the bushes on the east currently walking along the beach. In the distance he could make out two figures along the beach. As he got closer one of them stood up and began to walk away. Suddenly she turned back and grabbed something off the beach. She stood still for a few seconds, and Brad Dixon walked closer and closer. She had her back turned to him and Brad was now close enough to see who was still lying on the beach. The sand was red with blood and stuck together in clumps. Lola's hair was a darker than it normally was, her head not the shape it should be. Her skull was a caved in hole, blood seeping out, a few flecks of bright white where her skull poked through. Supressing an urge to vomit, Brad looked towards the girl who was walking away. He noticed the golf club in her hand and placed it all together in his mind. He ran towards her, holding the hilt of his sword as he stretched it out in front of him.

Rebecca slowly turned around as she heard running footsteps behind her.

The longswords blade slid straight through Rebecca's stomach as she turned around. A low hum rose from Rebecca's throat as she tried to speak. No words would come out, and she placed her hands on the blade impaled in her stomach. In a rage, Brad twisted the sword as much as he could and Rebecca's hands fell from the blade uselessly to her side. Her eyes widened momentarily, and slid shut in a painful grimace. She managed a sharp cry of pain as Brad pulled his sword out from her stomach. It was the last noise Rebecca ever made. She was dead before she hit the ground, her golf club lying behind her as she fell face forward onto the sand. Her shirt was torn open at the back where the blade had made it's way through, a ragged cut in fabric now dyed red. Brad's sword was now coated in a sheath of blood, dripping onto the sand inches from Rebecca's body. Absorbing the blood and clotting together, grains of sand became a dark crimson as it tried to trail it's way from beneath Rebecca's corpse. Brad took his sword and washed it as best he could in the waves, his eyes filled with tears.

**~18 remaining~**


	20. I'm Sorry

Kenny had started at the southern end of the island, in the trees to the western side. He had been walking for all of five minutes before he came upon a small cabin surrounded by trees. He knew he would never be able to hurt anyone even if it was a life or death situation. Besides, wouldn't he just be brought back after he had been killed anyways? The only person who knew was Damien, and his only response to Kenny's outburst had been that stupid smirk. When Kenny walked into the cabin, he sat down on the old, rusty bed and had thrown his weapon into the corner of the room. A scalpel, if used properly, could have killed someone he supposed. But he wasn't going to do it. He'd been killed countless times in countless ways and he didn't want to put anyone through that sort of pain. He had curled up on the bed, the sheets smelling musty and old, but had fallen asleep almost instantly. He was woken up periodically by the few gunshots and explosions he had heard, but drifted back to sleep easily. Death was something he was used to, so he didn't care if he died once more. He wanted to see Bebe again, and Eric. He didn't think Cartman would be a particular help in a situation like this though, probably harming Kenny more than anything. He had slept through the night and as if the cabin had some sort of ward no one had even bothered to come near. He had woken up on his own the next morning around seven and hadn't been able to fall back asleep. So he sat and waited, leaning against the cabin walls and facing the small wooden door. There were cobwebs along the ceiling, a smashed lamp on the floor in the corner beside the bed. There was an old dresser against the wall opposite the lamp, almost directly beside the door. Kenny hadn't bothered to look inside the drawers. Anything he found wouldn't have been any use to him. He was warm enough inside wearing the tshirt and jeans he had on. The only thing he had picked up since entering this cabin was the pillow that had been lying on the bed that he now held in his crossed arms. His legs were folded into each other, and the bottom of the pillow was touching the bed between them. He held it close to his chest, unaware that he was crying. Kenny didn't have any special abilities like Damien or anything, he knew that much, but he could tell when something bad was going to happen. Maybe it was the fact that he had been killed so many times during his life already, but he had come to realize when something was about to happen. And he had that feeling now. This whole situation was bad, sure, but this was directly involving him at the moment and he knew it. Sure enough the door to the cabin opened minutes later. Cartman walked through the door, and although Kenny was happy to see him he couldn't stop crying.

"Hi Eric."

"So this is where you were?" Cartman only looked partly surprised that he had found Kenny in here.

"Mhm. Were you looking for me or something?"

"Ha, I guess you could say that. Can I sit?" He began to walk towards the bed, and without waiting for an answer sat down on the bed to Kenny's left.

"I guess you can, then," Kenny looked towards Cartman and smiled. "So... who have you killed so far?"

"Clyde and Butters," there was no hesitation in his answer. "I've been looking for you and Wendy though. Oh, and Scott Tenorman."

"Not surprising, really. Although I'm slightly surprised you could kill Butters. You know he loved you, right?" Cartman let out a sigh and tilted his head back slightly.

"Yeah, but that's what made it so easy."

"I guess you're right. Feel bad?"

"...Not really."

"Liar. You wouldn't hesitate otherwise."

"Hah, you know me way to well. The thing is, I do get some kind of sick enjoyment out of this though. Pretty fucked up, isn't it?"

"Yup, pretty fucked up. But you know... Clyde and Butters would forgive you. And so will I."

"That's because you're all idiots."

"Pretty much." Kenny leaned his head to the left, and laid his head on Cartman's shoulder. "So... any ideas what you're going to do?"

"A few," he admitted.

"How long have you wanted to kill me, really?" The question was out without Kenny really thinking about it.

"A while."

"Hah. Well, you could have done it anytime, so why didn't you?"

"Probably because you wouldn't stay dead. I'm hoping this time you will... and even if you don't, I'll most likely be dead at the end of this so I won't have to deal with it."

"That's being a coward, Eric."

"I know. But I don't really give a shit."

"You never give a shit about anything, though."

"Not true. You even said it yourself that I feel bad about killing Butters. Clyde too, now that I think about it. Probably because he's so stupid it was way too easy."

"That's not nice, Eric."

"I'll feel bad about killing you too, by the way," he said, completely ignoring Kenny's comment about Clyde.

"Oh, really?"

"Mhm. You are my friend, after all. But I'm too fucked up to _not _kill you. Get it?"

"Not really. I can't relate, seeing as I never had any intention of killing anyone."

"True enough. Sorry."

"Apologizing already? That's not like you, you know."

"Right again. But I told you I had something planned, so I guess I should apologize in advance. It's the only one you're getting, anyways."

"So, it's going to be painful?" Kenny raised his eyes to Cartman's face.

"Yup," Cartman knew Kenny was looking at him, but he didn't return the look.

"I'll try not to cry then."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"It's the only way to piss you off I can think of right now."

"Fair enough." Cartman leaned over slightly and grabbed the crowbar he had placed beside him on the bed a few minutes before. Kenny saw him raise it with no surprise. He had seen him place it down before.

"Crowbar? That's a new one you know."

"I'm glad. Not just that though, sorry." Cartman took the hammer that was still hanging from his belt loop. Kenny's eyes widened in fear.

"Really...?"

"Mhm." He looked down at Kenny and saw that he was crying. "I already apologized once, just remember that." He moved backwards on the bed so Kenny's back was in front of him slightly. He took the hammer in his right hand and swung forward hitting Kenny's back in the middle. There was a loud crack and Kenny screamed in pain. Having a high pain tolerance wasn't going to do him any good today, it seemed. Cartman grabbed onto Kenny's hunched shoulder with his left arm and made him sit straight up. The pain was immense as Kenny's broken spine was forced to go straight. He let out another cry.

"I thought you weren't going to cry?"

"Haa... shit." Cartman placed the hammer against Kenny's back. He traced it up and down his spine, and near the bottom he reached back and slammed the hammer once more into Kenny's back. There was a sickening crunch as Kenny's vertebrae snapped. Cartman heard a low gasp, but Kenny appeared to be trying harder to not scream. He swung again, this time hitting the top of Kenny's back. There was another snap, louder in the cabin than it normally would have been, and still Cartman made Kenny sit straight up. He swung twice more, hearing the dull thud and the loud snaps as it made contact with it's target. Still Kenny didn't scream. Cartman let go of Kenny's shoulder and pushed him onto his stomach, still keeping him on the bed. He let the hammer fall from his hand, and once more picked up the crowbar. He placed the curved edge against Kenny's broken back and dug in. When he felt it hold onto something, he gave a light pull. Kenny's scream tore through the cabin.

"Eric, STOP."

"Hah, not only did you scream, now you're begging?"

"...Not.. not that. Please," Kenny's breaths were ragged, his body heaving with the effort of trying to get air.

"...One request only, okay?" Cartman removed the crowbar from Kenny's back. Instead of putting it down, he slammed it down onto Kenny's wrist which was lying near his chest. There was a loud snap as the wrist broke. Kenny managed to surpress his urge to scream, doing his best to not give Cartman the satisfaction he was looking for. Cartman once again slammed the crowbar down, this time on Kenny's neck. There was a muffled grunt and Cartman realized Kenny had buried his face in the pillow he had been holding. He stood up and walked beside the bed, facing Kenny. He grabbed his shoulder and his broken wrist and forcefully turned him. There were countless grinding noises as bone upon broken bone rubbed against one another. Kenny rolled over, refusing to let go of the pillow with his one good hand. Cartman pulled the pillow away and threw it to the ground where a pile of dust rose up on impact. Tears streaked Kenny's face, his eyes closed tightly. His mouth was shut, but his lips were quivering.

"Eric, stop. I can't... I can't deal with it."

"You're managing better than anyone else would have."

"That's because I've been killed more times than I can count!"

"Ha, which is why I chose to do this to _you."_

"Fuck you," Kenny muttered under his breath.

"Hmm?"

"I said, fuck YOU." The crowbar slammed down on Kenny's turned back and he uttered a tear choked scream. "Eric, stop."

"I said one request, remember?" Kenny's crying grew harder, sobs escaping from his slightly parted lips. Cartman dropped the crowbar onto the floor, and slowly leaned down so he was at face level with Kenny. "Good?"

"Ha. You're such an asshole Eric," Kenny replied, opening his eyes.

"You've known that forever, Kenny."

"Feel guilty about this?"

"Nope."

"Liar."

"I didn't hesitate, did I?"

"No. But you _are _crying." Cartman raised his fingers to his face, and sure enough he was.

"Fuck you."

"It's alright. I forgive you."

"You're more fucked up than I am."

"Not really."

"Painful?"

"You have no idea." Kenny inhaled deeply and his face twisted in pain.

"I guess I'm done then."

"Just like that?"

"Not quite, I guess." He picked up his Walther PPK from the floor and placed it against Kenny's temple.

"Hey Eric," Kenny had once again closed his eyes.

"What?"

"Thank you." Cartman pulled the trigger. Kenny's body jumped up slightly, and then fell still. The sheets below Kenny became red with blood, his blonde hair also soaking it up at the ends. As Cartman stood up, he heard the door behind him creak open. Bebe walked in, holding her knife out in front of her.

"Cartman! Fuck."

"Nice to see you too, Bebe," his response was quieter than it would normally be. She didn't realize and instead looked past him and to the bed. She could only see a pair of jeans and shoes, but it was enough. She recognized the shoes instantly.

"Cartman.. what did you do?"

"What we're supposed to do."

"Move out of the way." Without arguing, Cartman moved back and let Bebe see Kenny. She noticed the weird angle he was leaning on, knowing that more than just a shot to the head had taken place.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you?" She screamed at him, walking towards Cartman and Kenny, her knife still in front of her.

"A lot, most likely. Bebe, stop. At least put down the knife."

"Fuck you, Cartman." She continued to walk towards him, not noticing the gun he held in his hand. She took two more steps before a bullet imbedded itself in her head. She fell to the floor, instantly dead.

"Fuck, I didn't even have any intention of killing you." Cartman stepped over her body, and without looking back left the cabin, letting the door slam shut behind him.

**~16 remaining~**


	21. Forgive Me, Okay?

It was now almost noon. Cartman had spent nearly thirty minutes with Kenny. He hadn't hesitated to kill Bebe and he also didn't feel to bad about it. He had never particularly liked her in the first place, so he didn't pay it any mind. He had felt bad about killing Clyde and Butters, but he had been able to put them out of his mind. (Clyde moreso than Butters, he could still imagine how Butters' looked as he leaned dead against the tree.) Kenny was different. He had set out to kill him, had been looking for him from the very beginning of this stupid game. Then he found him, and had killed him almost as easily as he had killed the two before. Cartman knew he was fucked up, most of his friends _were,_ but this was beyond fucked up. And Kenny had thanked him, thanked him for putting a gun to his head to end the misery he was going through. The misery Cartman himself had put him through.

"FUUUUUUUCK," Cartman let out a long scream, clutching his head in his hands. He heard movement to his right and quickly turned in that direction. "Who's there?" He handn't let go of the gun since shooting Bebe, the cabin was now nearly ten minutes behind him.

"Eric?" a girl stepped out from behind a large tree. "Are you alright?"

"Patty Nelson?" Cartman was surprised to see her. He thought she would have been killed right from the start. Without thinking about it, he put his hand behind his back, hiding the gun from her sight.

"Mhm." She took a few steps forward, crushing leaves beneath her feet. "You're covered in blood. Are you okay?"

"Haah, no. Not really, anyways."

"Need help? Have you seen your br- have you seen Scott?"

"No to both Patty. By the way, drop the machete."

"Oh, shit. It's pretty much become a part of me, I didn't even realize. Sorry." She let the machete fall to her side, but she didn't let go. Cartman raised an eyebrow in response, and she only shrugged.

"I'm not that stupid. You're coated in blood and I can't see one single scratch on you. What have you done?"

"Better not tell you. Besides, you're covered in blood yourself."

"That bad, hm? Are you going to just let me leave?"

"Stupid question."

"Just thought I'd ask." She held the machete up a bit higher, ready to attack if he decided to come towards her.

"Not going to work."

"Worth a try, right?" She darted forwards, but stopped short when he pointed his gun at her chest. "Fuck. Guess you win this, right?"

"Pretty much. So you don't know where Scott is?"

"No idea. Even if I did I wouldn't tell you now."

"Smarter than you look then."

"Thanks, I think." He still held the gun pointed to her chest.

"No problem." He pulled the trigger twice and she crumpled to the ground. He walked away, reloading his gun as he did so.

Kevin McCormick had been hiding in the bushes where he had killed Bradley hours ago. He had gone as far north as he could, and saw that there was a short drop into the water. This cut off one of the ways someone could come at him from so he decided to stay there. When he heard gunshots he became worried, and carefully hid himself farther into the bushes to his left. He had been sitting for nearly forty minutes before he heard any sort of movement. Someone was walking towards him coming from the south. They stopped inches from where he was hidden in the bushes. This was the best chance that he had, so he jumped out from where he was and threw out his fist. He punched Shelley hard in the arm and she fell back in surprise. She looked up to see Kevin coming towards her once again moving to strike her. She grabbed her gun from where she had dropped it inches away from herself and raised it in front of her. She pulled the trigger three times, the shots making her scream. She had closed her eyes unintentionally, and when she opened them Kevin had fallen backwards towards the bush he had jumped out from. Shelley knew who Kevin was. Stan had been friends with Kenny long enough for her to know his siblings. She hadn't wanted to kill anyone, and now she had killed not one but two people. At least both had tried to kill her first, she reasoned. She had never liked Kevin to begin with (he was a complete asshole, to be honest) but she still felt bad. She looked towards him once more before walking away.

After killing Ferrari, Gregory had made his way towards the houses to the south end of the island. He had heard distant gunshots and had made himself walk faster incase whoever had fired the shots was now coming towards him. He walked to the last house in the row and went inside. He knew something had happened right away. There were nails sticking out of the walls where there shouldn't be, unless someone had hung up ridiculous amounts of pictures in an unbalanced manner. He walked farther into the house, his bayonet held in front of him. (He had been irritated that he had gotten just a bayonet and not a gun, but he decided to deal with what he had.) Something had definitely happened in here, and not just based on the mutilated body lying on the ground. A chair was thrown across the room, there were more nails in the walls, in the floor, stuck in the furniture. The couch was out of place from against the wall, and the carpet on the floor was in disarray. There was glass wherever he stepped, and the window had been smashed to countless pieces. He walked towards the window and first poked the bayonet down to the outside ground where he couldn't see. He slid it along the length of the window and when he didn't come into contact with anything he stuck his head out and looked first right towards the south, and then left towards the north. Someone was leaning against the far side of the building, but they hadn't noticed him. Gregory recognized him right away. He had known Christophe for a long time now and it was hard to mistake him for someone else. His parents had kicked him out when he was seventeen because they didn't want a gay son, especially one who would date a "filthy French piece of trash." Gregory had basically told his parents to shove it, and had moved to America. Christophe followed a few years later, where they met up again in Colorado. Yes, Gregory was from England, but he didn't have the same superior point of view his parents held. He was not better than anyone simply because of where he was from. When Christophe had cheated on him the first time, Gregory forgave him thinking it was a stupid mistake. The second time it had happened (which was actually the fifth time Christophe had slept with Kyle, Gregory just didn't know it) he once more forgave him and stayed with him. The third time (which was around the ninth) Gregory only stayed because he didn't want his parents to be right about Christophe. He did love him, sure, but it was painful to stay with him. But now, seeing him lying on the ground leaning against a buiding looking so.. pitiful, Gregory couldn't help but actually be worried.

"Christophe?" he jumped over the window sill and ran over to where he was leaning. Christophe's eyes flashed open at the noise although it took him a few seconds to remember where he was.

"Gregory?" he looked over to where Gregory was coming from.

"Mm. Are you alright? There's blood all over you." Gregory knelt down beside Christophe, dropping the bayonet a few feet away.

"I'm... fine. I guess." He sighed deeply and looked down as Gregory slumped against him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I had to kill someone though. She just kind of kept coming towards me. I didn't really have a choice."

"I know, I know. You wouldn't do something like that unless you needed to."

"Why are you covered in blood then?"

"Same reason as you, pretty much. I'm not sure who it was though."

"Ahh... What weapon did you get?"

"Ha. I guess it's useful to me seeing as I'm tall and strong? Haha."

"...What is it?" Christophe held up the axe he had been given at the start and showed it to Gregory.

"Aha, fitting enough I guess."

"Yup. Hey..."

"Mm?" Gregory had his eyes closed once more and he was still leaning against Christophe.

"You know that I actually love you, right?"

"Why are you asking me that now, you idiot?"

"Because, it's the last time I really _can_ ask you, right?" Gregory sat still, remaining silent for a minute.

"You're right." He regretted dropping his weapon a few feet back. "So... who did you really kill Christophe?" He felt the blade of the straight razor being placed against his throat.

"Kyle." Gregory opened his eyes, surprised.

"Really? I was expecting you to try and save him."

"I was planning on it... but he was too worried about Stan. I got fed up."

"Jealousy at it's best I suppose." He shut his eyes once more. Christophe, one more question."

"Sure."

"How many times did you actually sleep with Kyle?" tears fell from Gregory's closed eyes. "It's more than you told me, I know that much. I'm just not sure how many more."

"Either am I."

"Haaah. I guess I deserve this for being so stupid."

"Stupid?" It was Christophe's turn to be surprised. "For forgiving me, yes. Otherwise no. I do love you, honestly."

"Funny way of showing it, really."

"I'm sorry." Christophe tilted Gregory's head up and kissed him as he slid the blade across his throat.

**~13 remaining~**


	22. Who Cares? It's Love, No It's Not

Coming the same way Brad Dixon had a few hours before, Mark walked along the beach front. He had been looking for Rebecca since the beginning of this stupid game. He'd been through most of the forest scraping his legs along the way. Shorts were not the best in this situation. He had come across Butters, Clyde, Jason, Heidi, Liz and Lexus while looking for his sister. He hadn't bothered even trying to look into the field. Rebecca wasn't stupid enough to make herself a target like that. He had decided that when he reached the end of the forest he would work his way over to the eastern side of the island along the beach, which is exactly what he was doing. Unfortunately for Mark, it would have been better if he hadn't have done that. As he walked, he saw the two bodies lying on the sand. He recognized Rebecca right away from what she was wearing, coated in blood or not. He ran towards her, ignoring Lola completely even though she was mere feet away. He dropped down beside her ignoring the blood that stuck to him and the coarse sand that broke against the uncovered skin of his legs. He held her for a long time, crying into her neck as he held her lifeless body against him.

Pip was sick of walking through the forest and the bushes. He had been over the whole god damned island, and had run into person after person. The only problem was that they were dead. He had avoided the middle field of the island for the longest time until he came upon Lexus and saw the stack of grenades by her feet. He had walked along the beach after looking into the cabin, seeing Bebe and looking at how Kenny had been tortured. Although he hadn't let on earlier, what Ike said laid heavily on Pip's mind. He had known that Damien was just using him from the beginning. It bugged the shit out of him and it made him feel slightly useless and like a piece of thrown out trash. He was glad that he could be close to him, and had even slightly hoped that maybe Damien was starting to care about him until this had happened. Obviously he didn't give a shit about Pip as he could easily throw his life away to keep him amused for a day or two. His parents had died when he was young, and he wasn't really close with anyone here. The only purpose he had made for himself was to try and get Damien to love him. Now that that was clearly not an option (Damien had changed Pip a hell of a lot more than he'd realized, anyways) he didn't care if he died here. He was planning on letting the next person he ran into kill him. He was towards the northern end of the island, crossing the corpses of Karen and minutes later Red and Francis. He walked towards where he had killed Ike before, and went north from there, seeing the slight hill where Flora and Filmore were dead upon. He walked to the very northern tip and saw Sally whose stomach had been shot open. _Probably a shot gun. _He dropped his own weapon to the ground and took her flail instead. He would have taken Ike's chain, but this looked much more sturdy and much more capable of inflicting heavy damage. Although he didn't care about dying, he didn't want to look pathetic. He began to once again walk to the south, this time cutting straight through the field. Most people were still avoiding it, or had already found somewhere to hide so it was most likely safe. About halfway down, almost in the direct centre of the island he became glad that he had picked up Sally's weapon. Pip didn't want to be killed by someone he hated.

"Ahhh, you've made it this far have you?"

"I'm sadly not surprised to see you alive. I was kind of hoping that you would have been shot by now. You look like shit."

"You're not looking quite as pretty as you normally do yourself, Pip."

"Oh, you think I normally look pretty? An unexpected compliment. Sadly, since it's from you it's also highly unwanted." Christophe laughed at Pip's remark.

"As kind as ever, I see."

"I don't make it a point to be kind to people I can't stand."

"Fair enough." Christophe raised his axe over his shoulder.

"An axe? Somehow fitting. Is that why you're coated in blood? Who have you killed already?"

"Hmmm... seeing as you're probably going to die what does it matter to you?"

"Just curiousity, I guess."

"No harm in telling. Kevin Stoley... and Kyle and Gregory."

"...Liar."

"No, really. Why would I lie about something so cruel? Besides, shouldn't you be more familiar than anyone when it comes to being betrayed?"

"Fuck you."

"Touched a nerve, I see. Why did you let him take advantage of you then?"

"Shut the hell up, Christophe. It has nothing to do with you."

"True enough, but I do like seeing you pissed off."

"Well then, you must love seeing me. Because I'm pissed off whenever you're near me."

"Haha. Charming, really. Well, unfortunately for you I have nothing left to say to you."

"That's not unfortunate, believe me." Christophe stepped forward, the axe still placed over his shoulder. Pip lashed out with the flail he had taken from Sally and connected with Christophe's side.

"Fuck! God damn that hurts!" Blood seeped through the cut Christophe had just been given. The flail was stuck into his side, and when Pip tried to pull it out it tore skin off with the force. The small holes in his side automatically filled with blood, covering his entire side in fresh red. Pip lashed out again, this time connecting with Christophe's left leg. He tugged the flail back, and moved quickly backwards away from Christophe who was still moving forward. He looked towards the axe he was holding and noticed when Christophe's arm twitched, then fell forward. Pip darted to the left as the axe flew by him, barely missing his head.

"Fuck! That was close, you asshole."

"Not close enough, sorry to say. Want to try missing once or twice yourself? That thing hurts like a bitch you know."

"No thanks." Pip's hand darted out again and the flail whipped towards Christophe digging into his arm. With his other hand, Christophe quickly dug into his pocket and took out the straight razor. Holding it closed in his palm and bracing himself for the pain, he grabbed the flail that was stuck in his arm. He pulled forward ignoring as the needles dug into his hand, slightly tripping Pip causing him to step closer to Christophe. Christophe once more jerked his arm back, causing Pip to be only a few feet in front of him. He let go of the flail, tearing off a piece of skin along with it and opened the razor as quick as he could. He stepped forward and tried to dig the razor into Pip's neck. Pip, realizing what Christophe was going to do ducked at the last second, causing Christophe to slash at the air. He quickly made his way to Christophe's back, and with the flail raised, he whipped it around in the air in front of him. The tip dug into Pip's own arm, but he had gotten what he wanted. He held the flail's grip in one hand, and with his other pulled it from his arm and held on tightly. The flail was stuck in Christophe's neck, and as Pip pulled back with all his might he could hear Christophe struggling to breath, hearing his choked cries of pain. His arms were desperately trying to get the flail out of his throat, but with the added force of Pip pulling onto it and strangling him, there was nothing he could do. His futile attempts ebbed away, and his hands fell limply to his sides. His body crashed to the ground, almost dragging Pip down on top of him. The sudden fall had mostly torn the flail out from Christophe's neck. Through the thick blood you could see the punctures caused by the flail. Pip let go of the end of the flail, his hand ripped in several spots. Still holding onto the handle, te tore the rest of the thorns out from Christophe's neck. There was a sickening ripping noise as they released themselves from his skin. Not wanting to touch him, but wanting to make sure he was dead, Pip stepped forward and put his fingers to Christophe's neck, checking for a pulse. When he didn't find one, he once again began to walk to the southern part of the island.

**~12 remaining~**


	23. Slipping From Sanity, Happiness

A part of Mark had broken when he found his sister lying dead. He wanted to find who was responsible for her death and do to them what they had done to her. He had walked blindly along the rest of the beach, and walked up to the top of the mountain where he saw Kevin Stoley lying dead. He didn't pay him any attention but instead turned himself to the north and entered into the bushes ahead of him. He saw the houses, the window that Scott Malkinson had smashed and Gregory's body lying against the house. He thought there was a chance Gregory was alive (he could have killed Rebecca!) but when he got close enough he saw that the blood covering his front was his own, his throat slashed. Mark turned back to the east and walked into the bushes. When he came upon Henrietta, her face thoroughly beaten, he turned more towards the south and kept walking in that direction. After nearly thirty minutes of mindlessly ambling through the weeds and hedges, he noticed someone off to his right. And this someone was moving. He knew deep down that they had killed Rebecca. They must have. They were so close to where she was lying dead, getting some sick pleasure of being near her. He walked towards them without slowing, holding his shitty weapon in front of him. Although an ice pick was certainly short, he didn't care. He would kill whoever had done that to Rebecca. He walked up to them, a blank look in his eyes. When he got close enough to see that it was Craig, he began to run holding the pick in his right hand, ready to use.

"Mark? Mark, stop!"

"Why did you kill her?" he didn't stop his crazy decent upon Craig.

"Kill who? I haven't killed anyone!"

"Don't fucking lie to me! I know you killed Rebecca!"

"Reb- Mark, no! I haven't even seen her!" Mark was now just a few feet from where Craig was standing. Acting as quickly as he could, but not wanting too, Craig took his weapon out from his pocket. He gripped the handle, and as Mark lunged towards Craig, he swung with all his might. There was a loud smacking noise followed by a cracking noise as Mark's skull caved in. He was dead instantly. Craig looked to his hands, shakily holding the tenderizer that was matted with pieces of Mark's skin and hair. He quickly looked away before dropping the tenderizer to the ground and throwing up.

It was now past two in the afternoon. Porsche had walked west after killing Karen. She still felt horrible about it, and wished she could take it back. She was still looking for Mercedes, now walking in among the forest near the northen part of the island. She had gone to the south and had nearly run into Cartman, but she saw him walk into a small cabin so she ran away as fast as she could. She had run straight north, almost tripping over Clyde's corpse and screaming slightly when she looked back and saw what she had tripped over. After nearly ten minutes of running, she was out of breath and slowed to a walk. Half an hour later she was near the path, coming across Dylan's dissected corpse. She had yelled in horror and disgust, and started to once again run north. She looked up for a second and saw a clearing in the trees far ahead of her. When she got closer and closer (it took about ten minutes of walking) she heard a voice call out.

"Who's there?" Porsche's face lit up. _Finally._

"Mercedes! It's me!" Porsche began to run towards the clearing, seeing Mercedes in the distance, not close enough to make out any features.

"Porsche, STOP!"

"Huh, why?" Mercedes was now running towards Porsche, trying to get to her as fast as she could.

"Porsche, don't MOVE!" Ignoring what Mercedes had said to her, Porsche continued forward. Mercedes was now only about thirty seconds away from her. "Stop WALKING!" Her facial expression looked terrified, and Porsche took another step towards her. She had been looking for her the entire time, why should she give up now? She was just about to tell Mercedes to not be stupid, she wasn't going to hurt her, when she stepped right on top of one of the mines Mercedes had planted at the beginning of the game. There was a silent beep that made Porsche look down at the small, metal mine under her foot. The next second there was a massive explosion, shaking the trees in the distance. Mercedes and Porsche were both blown to pieces, Porsche unaware that she had done anything wrong. The mines explosion triggered the one closest by to explode which caused the next one to explode a few seconds later. Explosion after explosion occured, a loud chain reaction vibrating the entire island. The trees caught a spark and ignited, the leaves going up in a burst of flames. Within minutes, the entire northern end of the forest was a mass of fire and smoke. The only good thing to be noted of this encounter was the fact that Porsche and Mercedes were both glad to have seen each other before they died.

**~9 remaining~**


	24. Siblings, and a Few Extra

He really hadn't wanted to kill Mark, but he'd been left with no choice. He had run out into the field, just passing by where Henrietta's dead body was, her head smashed into oblivion. When he broke through of the bushes, he stepped into the field. In the distance he could see someone lying on the ground and someone walking away, into the bushes he had just come out of. Seconds after he watched whoever it was walk into the growth, a series of explosions shattered the quiet of the island. Craig's heart raced and he swore in fright. _What the __**fuck **__was that? _He looked into the sky and saw a bright glow and a bundle of riding smoke coming from the forest to the north of the island. Craig didn't know what to do. He had been planning on running into the trees, but now that there was undoubtedly a fire it was clearly not such a good idea. He turned his gaze back to the western direction and saw someone dart behind one of the houses close behind. He turned as quickly as he could and began to run back to the trees. Two loud gunshots came from behind him and Craig felt red-hot pain enter his stomach and upper back. Taking a few stammering steps forward, he fell to the ground as the blood drained from his body. He could faintly hear footsteps coming up from behind him and tried to turn to see who would be the one to kill him. Instead of another shot, arms draped his side and tried to pull him upwards. Scott Tenorman was standing beside him trying his hardest to get Craig out of the way. Although it might be pointless, Scott didn't want to just blindly watch someone die. He hated death. He tried to drag Craig to the nearest house (where Scott had found Gregory only minutes before) but was stopped short as a bullet lodged itself into his leg.

"Fuck!" Scott's howl of pain rose into the air and he dropped Craig to the ground where he uttered a muffled cry of pain. He looked towards the western island and saw who had shot him. _God damnit, why did it need to be him! _ The footsteps fell silent beside Scott who was sprawled defenceless on the grass. Cartman pointed the gun to his head, and put his finger on the trigger. An instant before he pulled the trigger, he pointed it towards Craig and fired one last bullet into his head, killing him. He pointed the smoking gun back towards his brother, his finger still on the trigger.

"Fuck, why you?"

"Ha. Sorry to disappoint you. I killed your girlfriend earlier by the way."

"Patty? Liar."

"Believe what you want, but she did ask about you. She said she didn't know where you were. I guess she wasn't lying, or you two would have been together. Just so you know, her weapon was a machete. I think she killed someone before I found her, because she was already covered in blood. It didn't stop me from making her get covered in fresh blood though. Even if it was her own."

"Fuck you, Eric. Shut your fucking mouth."

"Haha, you really have no right to be telling me to do anything."

"I have reason enough to be pissed off at you."

"Still on about your parents? Can't you get over that already?"

"Over it? I think it's fucked you up more than you know." Cartman's eyes flashed, and he fired another shot into Scott's leg.

"Maybe. But it doesn't matter anymore."

"I guess not," Scott responded through the pain.

"Not at all, actually. But... I'm done talking with you. Sorry." Cartman unloaded the rest of the bullets loaded into the gun into Scott's chest and head. His head was partly torn away revealing the sponge of brain beneath. Skin and hair invaded the air with a chunky spray. Cartman dropped the guns magazine clip to the ground and reloaded his gun before walking away.

Shelley had reloaded her gun after walking away from Kevin. She had only fired four bullets so far. Six were now loaded into her gun, with an extra two in her pocket. Eight left. Great. Although only four were used, eight certainly seemed like a lot less than twelve. She had continued to walk through the bushes, cringing when she heard the massive explosion caused by Mercedes' land mines. She was still on the northern half of the island, about thirty minutes from where she had killed Kevin. She hoped Stan was still alive, and she was walking through these annoying ass bushes looking for him. She had almost sprained her ankle twice now, tripping on roots in the ground. As she made her way through the bushes, cursing under her breath whever her shoes got stuck among the plants she heard a loud blast followed by a sharp pain in her leg. She fell to the ground, and seconds later was shot countless times with Bridon's Uzi. He had been off to her left, quietly watching her and having an inner struggle. He didn't want to kill anyone really, but on top of her holding a gun, he had already killed three people. And one was Kip. He had known him for ten years now. So what did it really matter if he killed someone he barely knew? Stan would be pissed if he found out, but only one of them could live in the end anyways.

**~6 remaining~**


	25. An Escape

Stan and Wendy were sitting in a small clearing within the bushes when they heard the nearby gunshots. He had laid her on the ground and propped his gun against a nearby hedge making sure it was sturdy enough for it to not fall right in and in easy access. He looked down at her swollen ankle and at her slightly pale face. He knew she was in a lot of pain, but there wasn't a lot he could do for her.

"Wendy, let me see your ankle." He grabbed his black shirt and tore off a long strip along the bottom.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, we need to bandage that somehow, right? And I certainly don't have anything better to use."

The person Craig had seen walking into the bushes a few minutes earlier was Pip. He was still dragging the flail behind him, knowing exactly what he was going to do when he ran into someone. He heard quiet voices off to the far east side and began to walk towards them. He wasn't careful about making noise, he wanted to be heard. The voices quieted as he neared them, and he stepped into a small space free of any shrubs or other plants. Stan and Wendy were huddled together in the small clearing. Wendy looked like she had been hurt and Stan was trying to tie a bandage around her ankle. The side of his shirt had been ripped and the strip was partly wrapped around Wendy's left ankle. Stan stood up quickly, blocking Pip off from Wendy. He saw the flail in his hands and his eyes widened. He recognized it as Sally's from earlier. Those wounds had been a bitch to clean. Pip raised his hand, gripping the flail's handle tightly. He made a halfassed attempt at swinging it towards Stan, but it was enough. His plan worked. Stan had grabbed the shotgun he had leaned against a nearby tree and fired. He shot Pip in almost the same spot he had shot Sally, just a bit more to the left. The shotguns blast made Wendy scream, but Pip fell to the ground with a smile. _Just what I wanted._

Bridon heard the shotgun fire to the south and began to walk as quickly as he could in the direction it had come from.

Brad Dixon had been hiding in almost the same spot Rebecca had been when he heard the mines explode. He was startled and nearly fell into the water but the tip of his sword caught between the rocks and kept him upright. He walked back to the beach and was walking towards the houses to the north when he saw Craig come out from the bushes about forty meters ahead of him. Brad quickly ran to the back of the house closest to him, stepping on shards of smashed glass. He leaned around the building and just barely had time to focus in on Gregory's dead body and notice that someone else was standing pressed against the side of the house before two shots rang out close by. Craig fell to the ground and didn't move. He saw as Scott Tenorman ran out and tried to drag Craig back behind the house. _Idiot, what the hell are you doing? _When Scott fell to the ground after another shot rung out, Brad ducked back behind the house. He heard Scott's cry of pain and yet another shot rang out. Brad thought Scott was dead, and was about to look around the building when they once again began to talk. After what seemed like forever, there were countless shots fired and Brad was certain Scott was now dead. He quickly glanced around the building and saw Cartman walk into the bushes out of his sight. He darted out from behind the house and after seeing the smoke rising from the west of the island decided to go into the bushes and hopefully avoid Cartman. Within minutes there was a much louder shot than Cartman's gun had made. Brad walked towards the shot, hoping that someone had finally killed Cartman.

**~5 remaining~**


	26. Game End

Bridon was now at the clearing where Stan had just minutes before shot Pip. He stood with his gun pointed to Stan, and fired as the bushes to the south began to rustle. Brad Dixon's sword fell to the ground, and Wendy screamed.

"Bridon!" Stan yelled. "Bridon, seriously just put the gun down! We're not going to hurt you!"

"Fuck off, Stan! I know what you're trying to do!"

"Bridon, really! Why would I hurt you? Look, I have Wendy with me. We've been together from the start, pretty much. Look, just put down the gun Bridon. Please?" Stan's voice was pleading. Bridon's eyes glanced over towards Wendy but dind't register what Stan was saying. He focused in on the fact that she was hurt. The fact that she couldn't run away. He closed his eyes and began to laugh.

"...Bridon? What...?"

"This is all so PATHETIC. Seriously. Someone having so much control over what we do. How simple can we be, really?"

"What are you talking about?" Wendy asked quietly. Bridon's eyes opened and glared at her.

"Are you _stupid? _ Look at us. We've spent almost twenty-four hours killing one another, all for the amusement of one single person! Don't you see anything wrong with that? We all should have pointed our weapons towards ourselves and taken our own lives."

"Bridon, don't say shit like that. Put the gun down." Stan took a step forward, dispensing the used shotgun shells as moved.

"...Hahahaaa. Going to kill me? Fine. I should have known that things would come to this anyways. My whole life has been shit, so why should my death be any different?"

"Bridon, no. I'm not going to kill you so just..." Bridon raised his Uzi and instead of pointing it at Stan he pointed it towards Wendy who could do nothing. Without a seconds hesitation, Stan fired the shotgun towards Bridon hiting him in the chest. The gun fell to the ground seconds before Bridon. Wendy screamed once again, covering her eyes with her hands.

"Shiiit. God damnit Bridon, why did you have to be so_ stupid?" _ Stan stepped over to Bridon and picked his gun up. He walked back towards Wendy and gave the gun to her. "For your protection, okay? In case something happens to me."

"Stan, I could.. I could never use this."

"Please just take it."

"..Okay. Are you alright?"

"As alright as I can be, I guess. You're not hurt?"

"Not any more than before, no."

"Good. I'll make sure you get through this, alright?" A shot fired out landing inches from Wendy's outstretched leg.

"How cute. You two piss me off." Cartman stepped through the bushes and into the small clearing, his gun now leveled towards Wendy's head.

"Eric?" she called. "Eric, you're okay?"

"Okay? Hardly. I should have known you would make it this far, Wendy. You would have had Stan to protect you, right?"

"Cartman, what the hell are you doing?"

"Shut the fuck up Stan. I have no interest in talking to you." Stan was ready to say something when Wendy interrupted him.

".Stan, don't. ...What do you want, Eric?" Wendy asked.

"Nothing. I don't know. For this to be over, really."

"None of us wanted this to happen. Are you hurt?" She raised her hand towards Stan, who helped her get to her feet. She handed Stan the gun he had just given her and then slowly took one step forward, dragging her hurt foot behind her slowly making her way over to Cartman.

"Wendy, don't. What are you-"

"Stan, don't worry."

"Wendy, stay the fuck away from me."

"No. Why did you want to find me?"

"I never said I-"

"Why?" Cartman's hand shook slightly before once more holding it steady, pointing it now at her chest.

"God damnit Wendy. Seriously. I don't know, I hate you. I wanted to kill you myself. Does that work?" Wendy smiled.

"I suppose it will have to." She was now standing in front of him, the gun touching her chest. She raised her arm and lowered his hand slowly to his side. Wendy then put her arms around his neck and pushed herself against him.

"Wendy, what-" Stan cut off his own words as she saw him look towards him and then at the gun placed in his hand. The one she had just given back. He slowly walked towards them.

"Wendy, let go of me."

"No."

"Wendy, fuck off."

"You found me, Eric. You can kill me now. I'm not fighting you, am I?" Her voice was thick with the tears she was trying to hold back.

"...Fuck you."

"Why did you want to find me?"

"...You know why, Wendy."

"Mhm. Eric?"

"What?"

"Don't just stand there, okay?"

"What...?" Wendy moved her hands from behind his neck and once more took his hands into hers. She placed them around her and after taking the gun from Stan she placed them once more around his neck.

"Who have you killed?"

"...Clyde was first. Then...Butters. Then I ran into Kenny, so I... killed him too. Bebe showed up and I shot her. When I left from where I'd killed them, I ran into Patty Nelson and killed her too. Then I found Craig. He tried to run so I shot him. Then Scott Tenorman tried to save him, so I killed him too. Basically, I killed everyone I wanted to and then some. Except you."

"So why can't you kill me now?" She carefully moved her hands to his shoulders, and looked up at him.

"I... I don't know, okay? Do you seriously want me to kill you?"

"It would end this, wouldn't it? For me, anyways. I know that it's selfish."

"Very." She pointed the barrel of the Uzi towards his head carefully.

"Eric... I wish you would have told me sooner." She raised her wounded leg off the ground and raised herself up on the other. When she broke off the kiss, tears spilling over her eyes she apologized and pulled the trigger. Cartman fell to the ground as she dropped the gun and if not for Stan, Wendy would have fallen right along with them.

"Wendy...? Are you alright?" He leaned her against him, hugging her tightly. Her body was shaking from crying.

"No. I'm not. At all. I'm... I'm sorry Stan. I should have told you before. I didn't know how, I didn't even know when I started to... to love him."

"Wendy, you don't need to explain yourself to me. I left you for Kyle, remember?"

"Don't regret that, okay? Please."

"...I don't."

"Good."

"...Wendy, let me wrap your ankle, okay?" His only response was a nod of her head. He lowered her down, being careful not to put pressure on her injured foot. He sat down beside her and picked up the piece of his shirt that had fallen when she had stood up. As he began to tightly wrap the cloth around her, there was a rustling to the left of them. Stan quickly stood up, going towards his shotgun.

"Don't even bother, Stan."

"...Damien?" Stan looked up at the sound of his voice. It wasn't one he had wanted to hear anytime soon.

"That would be me."

"Why are you here?" Wendy asked.

"Well... you see, you two are the only ones left." They stared at him, blinking dumbly. "No reaction? Out of all of the ones that started this, you are the only survivors."

"Then the game isn't over, Damien." Damien's eyes shot over to Stan.

"Oh, but it is. See... you two are the last ones. And I know you would never be able to kill one another. So, the game is over."

"..What do you mean?"

"Damien, don't tell me that-"

"Ahh Stan, I think you got it. Congratulations on getting this far, really. And thank you for keeping me this entertained." He leaned over and picked up the gun Cartman had dropped only a few minutes ago. "And now, unfortunately for you, the game is over." Two more shots are fired, and all falls quiet.

**~Game End~**


End file.
